For Want of a Nail
by Taywono
Summary: Alan Burgundy comes from a small town in a region with it's own exclusive semblance. Alan hates crowds and loud noises, and prefers to be left alone to himself and his music. However, when he finds out two very important things about him and his teammates, it'll take a little more than friendship to make him come out of his shell in this multi-perspective OC Fanfiction!
1. Prologue 1: Alan

**Perspective: Alan Burgundy**

'_[Ninety-degree left turn in 75 meters. Designated foot to pivot: right. Time until action: Ten seconds.]'_ The cold, robotic voice echoes in my head. _'Yeah, yeah,'_ I say to myself in response. _'I got it the first time.'_

The balls of my feet barely touch the thin, dirt path as I run at full speed along the fence line of my family's ranch. It's only been a few months since we started this conditioning, but the change on my body has been amazingly dramatic. I used to struggle in running just half the perimeter of the ranch in the beginning, but now I am racing against the clock- putting forth every last inch of effort to beat my time from the day before.

'_[Five seconds until action.]'_

At this point, L.O.G.I.C has been telling me that I would be taking this left turn for 300 meters.

The dirt path below me is slowly transitioning into equal distances patches of dirt and grass, only as long as the distance between my feet. I smirk. 'That just makes it even more obvious that I keep a pretty predictable rhythm when I run, I suppose.'

'_[Perform action in 3…2…1...Now!]'_

My eyes narrow, I hold my breath, and I concentrate on the large circle of grass-less dirt at the corner of the two fence lines. On cue, I shift my weight onto my right foot, step to the center of the circle, pivot to the left, and push off of my right foot. I am back into full sprint in a single flawless motion. _'[[Well done, Alan.]]' _L.O.G.I.C says with a surprising amount of delight in its tone.

"_[This is the homestretch. You will finish your conditioning in 200 meters, at the ranch gate. Keep up the pace.]"_

L.O.G.I.C is awfully useful when it wants to be. While my parents say the opportunity to live in a time where such technology is available to me is a gift, it certainly doesn't seem like that, sometimes. It is practically a nagging older sibling sitting on my shoulder, all day- every day. It becomes more and more difficult to concentrate every day with L.O.G.I.C's constant bickering, and the fact that I am _forced _to wake up at 6:00am every morning doesn't make me like it any more than I do now.

At least it is making my morning conditioning a little easier. My entire body pretty much goes into autopilot when I run, and L.O.G.I.C tracking distance, speed, and performance is a real load off my back. Not to mention the supposed bragging rights I have- since I am the youngest person to have L.O.G.I.C and the rest of my weapon "installed" into my body.

My eyes break from staring straight ahead in thought and focus on the two figures in the distance. My mother, leaning against one of the tall wooden beams supporting the ranch's gate entrance, has her head turned to face my father, who leans over the fence, staring directly at me, with a small silver stopwatch in his right hand. He moves his thumb into position as I blaze down the path towards the pair.

I can only think of two things that they might be talking about: either that I'm running too slow, or running faster than ever.

I can't quite make out their faces yet, but, regardless, I begin to run faster. I concentrate my movements to be as precise as possible, I take deeper, faster breaths, and put a painful amount of power into each step. It's these small details that will make the biggest difference in the world.

I wince and close my eyes as I arrive at the ranch gate, still in full sprint, and I am well past the ranch gate when I am finally able stop. I didn't realize how heavy my breathing was until all I could hear was my heartbeat and the rustling trees around me. I shake the ache out of my feet, crack my neck, put my hands on the back of my head, stick my elbows straight out- standard deep breathing position- and begin the short walk to where my father leans on the fence.

Whether it's a walk of shame, or a walk of glory, I cannot tell yet. His face remains neutral, as always, with his large white rancher hat shading his face from the harsh rays of the August sun.

I am still lost for words when I finally arrive at the large, Oak-tree gate, with the inscription {BURGUNDY-RANCH} carved into the wood with excellent precision. Despite me arriving, my father has still yet to say a word. I move my arms from my head to my hips, close my eyes, and take one final breath to stabilize myself. I look to him and shrug, implying that he should be the first to speak. Instead of looking at me, though, my father is inspecting the small, metallic, plate-shaped piece of my weapon that I assumed was in my bag, which is laying at his feet.

"This here's your Mick, right, boy?" he says in a curious tone.

I nod. Even though my father's the one who gave the engineers permission to "install" L.O.G.I.C and the rest of my weapon in me, he still can't remember all the names of each piece. He's one heck of a fighter, but he is only a simple man.

I reach to take the maroon and grey piece of metal from him, and he gladly hands it to me. I feel along the perimeter of the machine with my index finger until I find a small area that has a particular texture to it, and push in deeply. The machine comes to life in an instant; the previously unlit branches of thick maroon-tinted glass flowing along the outside of the machine were now bright. The dark grey screen taking up the entire center-section of the 8-inch-wide machine began to emit a single horizontal white line. I take the machine into my left hand and place it above and behind my left shoulder.

I immediately feel the distinctive tingling in the place on my spine where L.O.G.I.C is connected. I let go of the piece of machinery, and it begins to float. It adjusts its own position to where its center is parallel to my eyes, and the white line begins light up with the sound waves of my speech.

"|It's pronounced Mike, not Mick, dad. Spelled M - I - C. Like the word microphone.|" I say in a nagging tone, similar to the way L.O.G.I.C nags to me.

Except I didn't really 'say' anything. I only had to think about saying those words, and L.O.G.I.C transferred those thoughts into words. What's especially cool is that you wouldn't even be able to tell it was M.I.C speaking for me if you weren't looking at me. M.I.C's imitation of my voice is spot on. It can speak in any language I know, it can learn and mimic accents, and can even completely change voices to match my semblance. While it's nothing special by itself, M.I.C and L.O.G.I.C make an awesome pair together.

"I still expect you to actually talk to the kids at Beacon, y know." My father playfully nags back at me. "Your mick- I mean- M.I.C… may be the only thing you use to speak with strangers around these parts, but if I hear you're not really speaking to anyone, and acting a lonely sonovagun to all the other students, then you better hope you got enough of yer instruments already locked up in your dorm- because you won't be seeing the others no more."

"James," My mother suddenly pipes in, "that's a little harsh, now, isn't it? He's just a boy! Imagine what hell he'll get just for not speaking very good English! Why, I bet he-"

"|Mom~|," I reply, slightly irritated, "|My English is fine. We speak enough English here that you should know it well, too.|" I roll my eyes in discontent. "|You keep forgetting about my semblance.|"

Her eyes widen, and she leans off the tall wooden post to meet my eyes. "Oh, that's right! I…I don't know why keep forgetting your semblance works with languages, too…" She laughs nervously at her conjecture as her voice trails off. I follow her gaze towards our large ranch house in the center of the 10-acre plot of land it sat on.

"An' yer sister Rose can speak good English too, right?"

"|Yeah. Natalie has the ▓▓▓▓▓▓ as well. However, she can use the ▓▓▓▓▓, and I can't. But I have the ▓▓▓▓▓.|" I say that last bit with a slight sense of pride in my knowledge of our semblances. To foreigners, it seems like a lot to have to memorize. But considering my sister, my aunt, my grandfather and I all share extremely similar versions of the same base semblance, their constant help makes it feel like a lot less.

"Well you certainly look the part, boy," My father remarked with a huge grin, "You're taller than I am, now! Too bad I got the bigger guns, or you'd be running for my money!" He flexes his biceps to further prove his point. I can't help but match his cheesy grin and imitate his flexing.

"|Speaking of running, assuming things go okay at Beacon, there's a high chance that I _will _be running for your money, pa. But at least I know I'm able to outrun you before I leave for Beacon!|" I say, still grinning. We share a hearty laugh. At least he's playing fair this time.

I reach up and take a hold of M.I.C and feel along its edges until I find a specific row of buttons. I press the fourth button on the row, and the white line in the center of M.I.C fades away. I leave M.I.C floating above my shoulder as I begin to speak.

"So what was my time anyways? I beat yesterday's time, right?" I ask anxiously, putting my hands back on my hips.

"Oh, I never told ya'?" My father raises his eyebrows in surprise. "You ran the 800 meters in 100.45 seconds! Ask L.O.G.I.C how fast that means you ran." He points to the back of his neck, between his head and his collar bone- the equivalent of where L.O.G.I.C is implanted in my neck.

"The math ain't _that_ hard, pa. I ran… 28.8 kmph!" I proclaim triumphantly, "Or uh… 18 mph."

"Not bad at all, my boy!" My father exclaims. "You really got a knack for numbers! Anyways, let's head inside," He walks from his place on the opposite side of the fence to me side, and my mother follows. "I'm sure you're hungry after all that! You also got a lot of packing to do before you brave the world and start attending Beacon on Saturday!" He is grinning ear to ear again.

I turn to him, and meet his grin with faux smile. "Yeah… I probably do."

'I'm not looking forward to Beacon,' I want to tell them. 'There's no way in hell I'll fit in. What am I supposed to talk about? Am I just supposed to walk into my classes once a month, and then ace every test without having anyone notice? People are going to ask questions; questions I don't plan on answering. Oh god, and I'm also going to be assigned a team! I might end up in charge of 3 imbecils who can't tell the difference between a ▓▓▓▓ and a ▓▓▓▓▓▓!'

I put the palms of my hands over my eyes at the thought, and shudder. I put my hands back to my sides and look up into the cloudy autumn morning sky as I follow my parents back to our ranch house. It's become more than a habit to look up at the sky and imagine things made from the shapes of the clouds. I notice a bee-shaped cloud above our house, and then a mouse-shaped cloud to my right. I turn around and begin to walk backwards, so I can get a good glimpse of the clouds behind me, as well.

I stop walking and narrow my eyes on a particular cloud above the gate to our ranch. I furrow my brow. I know what it is, but I can't quite put my finger on it. I look back over to the gate, and my eyes follow the wide gravel trail all the way past the large groups of trees and cacti to the edge of the desert-claimed area a few kilometers away. The views out here are really nice, since all the land is basically flat.

I shift my eyes back up to the cloud in question, and I realize its shape has shifted slightly. What used to be mostly a white blob of evaporated water now is in the shape of a human head, with a long ponytail trailing behind it. I rub my eyes to make sure I'm seeing it right, but I am whisked out of my idle state by my father, whose hands on each of my shoulders came down so hard that they could have easily drove me into the ground like a stake.

"You comin', boss?" He asks jokingly.

"Yeah I just…" I try to form the words I'm looking for, but ultimately give up. Even if I had said what was on my mind just now, I doubt it'd change my father's plans for me to attend Beacon. 'It's good for me,' I tell myself. 'What's better than attending the top school for aspiring hunters and huntresses with a semblance that will give you enough freedom to do whatever you want to do? Plus, it'll be a fun little culture shock.' "Nevermind."

"Alright, man. Just keep up. I know your legs hurt from the running, but we don't make you run as fast as we do for you to be sitting around all day staring at clouds!" He says with a hearty chuckle.

He pats me on the shoulder with one hand and releases his grip. He turns to follow my mother, who's already significantly farther ahead of us. I take a deep breath, and turn to follow as well.


	2. Prologue 2: Choices

_**Hi! This is an edit from kinda late into the chapters. I meant Chapter 2 to be additional information on Alan's family before I dive into the real story. If you don't want to read some boring family banter, then skip ahead to Chapter 3.**_

* * *

_**Note:**__ I promise the next few chapters will be a little longer, or at least more dialogue-based. My writing is a little rusty, but I'll try to find a niche for it over the next few chapters, after the prologue stuff. I might also do some Character Templates for each main character introduced. To clarify, the black squares__ are being used to censor words that will be translated in the future. Keep in mind, Alan is not speaking English in the Prologue at all, unless I specifically mention him speaking English. Think of these censored words as being language-specific words, or slang. I'd love some feedback! Thanks, and enjoy!_

* * *

**Perspective: Alan Burgundy**

My coffee sits cold on the large oak wood desk between me and my bed. I don't know why I even bothered to make the coffee, if I was going to be so busy that I would never take a sip. Even if I wanted to drink it now, it is far too late- I hate cold coffee.

I take a handful of shirts off their hangers and neatly fold them to be as small and compact as possible. I walk to my bed, where my suitcase is laying open, and stack them next to the other casual clothing inside. I return to my closet and reach for the first piece of my school uniform.

The uniform consists of a black suit with gold highlights, a royal blue suit vest, white undershirt, and red tie. I don't know of _anyone_ who would _ever _want to wear something like this where I live. With the weather rarely dropping below 20ºC in any given season, wearing layers- especially layers of dark-colored clothing- is practically suicide. I'm told Beacon Academy's weather is pretty mild, but I still can't imagine them forcing us to wear this all day, every day. Regardless, I was told to wear my armor on arrival, so I assume they will fill us in on their dress code once we get there.

I stack each layer of the uniform neatly into a corner of my suitcase. I grab my toothbrush, toothpaste, floss, and other necessary hygiene items that are in small plastic bags on my bed and put them in a large pocket inside the suitcase.

'Logic, run through my checklist for me.'

'[All items are accounted for.]' Logic echoes back. '[However…]'

I feel the familiar sensation of Logic detaching itself from the small, metal area where it usually resides inside my neck. This independent-moving version of Logic is about the shape of a thumb ring, and shares a similar design to the rest of my weapon. While it is unable to speak to me directly while detached from my body, it is able to speak on its own.

Logic finishes detaching from my neck, flies over my head, and into the suitcase, where it lands on my uniform. Its voice is identical to when it speaks to me directly, but it no longer speaks with formality as it does in my head.

"[I suggest you rearrange your clothing. If something leaks out of one of these bags, it'll soil your uniform.]"

"Don't worry about it. Those plastic bags are shut tight." I assure Logic.

"[If you insist…]"

Logic takes flight again, this time landing on the desk behind me, on top of a list I recently wrote.

"[Now's the best time, if ever, to decide on which instrument or instruments you want to bring with you on the flight there.]" Logic insisted.

I turn to Logic and roll my eyes. "I don't see why I need to rush that. I'm better off with going with my gut than having to choose between them all at once."

I walk over to the desk, and pick up the paper. Logic hovers over my right hand as I read down the list. 6 assorted guitars, 4 percussions, 1 set of string orchestra instruments, 5 brass, and 3 woodwinds. Most of these are kept in a sound-proof room that me and my father built as a project, which is in the basement. Rose and I share the instruments down there, but we each have "our" instruments, which we keep in our respective rooms. I glance over to the Violin and 12-string acoustic guitar propped up on the opposite end of the room as I read over the list.

"It's a shame I can't bring all of them."

"[I remember your father insisting that he'll bring a few instruments every time he visits.]"

"But how often would he visit his son that's attending a University that is on the other side of Remnant?"

"[I'm sure that he'll go out of his way to visit you as often as possible.]"

"Who would handle the ranch work, then?"

"[Your mother and sister? You act like farm plants and a farm animals need constant attention in order to stay alive.]"

"That's because they practically do. You don't know that because I don't talk about it, but I know for a fact that it takes a little more than water and nutrients to yield the best crops."

"[Fair, but they don't require hourly attention.]"

"Daily for animals, weekly for crops- at least."

"[Noted.]" Logic says sarcastically.

I scoff at his sarcasm, then return the paper to its place on the desk, and finish packing.

* * *

As I climb down the stairs, suitcase in hand, I am met with my father's signature bellowing laugh. He, along with my mother and sister, are seated at our dining room table to my left, still eating breakfast.

"You guys realize that it's almost 11 o'clock, right?" I say between one of my father's rambling sentences.

"Don't worry about it! We have all day to eat, but we aren't gonna get another chance to sit down and talk with you for a while!" My father replies with a grin.

I set my suitcase down at the bottom of the stairs and sit across from my father and next to Rose, my sister, at our dining table. Logic flies close behind me and lands between me and Rose on the table.

"So you're all packed and ready to go, huh?" My dad asks, pointing to my suitcase.

"Not exactly. I still need to figure out which instruments I am going to bring with me. I'm going to at least need one."

"Ha! Well at least make sure that you bring every piece of your weapon! It wouldn't be the first time you left a few rings behind!"

I roll my eyes at his remembrance of that day. I had forgotten about half of the pieces to my weapon on my bed when I went out to spar in the city, and it turned really bad really quickly. I couldn't even make the shape of the weapon, better yet use it.

"Of course, of course," I lift my hands to shoulder-height. "I made sure to count them, and they're all neat and packed in that neck pocket on my armor."

"Great!" He turns to my mother. "That reminds me, Lisa, are the laundry machines full? I have some clothes I need washed."

I roll my eyes. He gets off-topic so quickly, it's almost childish. He's super supportive of me and Rose's semblances, though, and that's all I could ever ask for.

As he continues to ramble, Rose puts down her fork and turns to me, speaking in English so that our parents don't eavesdrop.

"Take the electric keyboard. It's small, portable, and has a wide playing range." She points to our father with her thumb. "Plus, I'm sure the first thing you'll want him to send you would be a piano anyways. You can probably convince him to send you your 12-string and violin within the first few weeks by mail."

I raise an eyebrow. "You sure? Mailing something that fragile such a long distance seems like a bad idea."

"You don't know the Beacon Postal Service very well, then. They fly all packages first class, and deliver to your dorm. My friend Morgan recently got a 'homesick care package' from her parents, and she said it was in perfect condition."

"Sounds like fun. I hope they don't send me any care packages, though." I point my thumb to our mother. "With my luck, I'll get an ear of corn and a ▓▓▓▓▓▓ from Mom, and something dirty from Dad."

This makes Rose giggle. "Let's hope you won't be using anything he sends you, then."

"No promises." I say satirically.

"Hey, whatchu kids talking about?" My dad suddenly pipes in.

We both turn to him, and then back to each other. I shrug. "Nothing, never mind."

* * *

_Sadly, this is the last you'll see of Alan's father for awhile. I really wanted to go into more detail about him, but it'll have to wait for another time. Please feel free to write a review! Like I said, I'm looking for feedback!_

_Next is Chapter 1. Chapter 1 will be the first chapter that I change perspectives in. Make sure to let me know how that goes, as well!_


	3. Pyrrha Nikos

**Perspective: Alan Burgundy**

My mother fills me in on exactly what my schedule is while she drives me to the city. I am to board the shuttle headed for the Mistral region, where I will be boarding a much larger shuttle that is headed to Beacon. Apparently, no direct rides to Beacon are available here, but at least I'll be alone on the first half of the trip.

She said to expect anywhere from 20 to 30 people on the second shuttle, and she included the fact that Mistral region inhabitants speak English as their primary language- so hearing them would give me a chance to warm up on my English.

Except, of course, that I don't need any sort of warm-up. Natalie and I speak it enough at our house that it's practically second nature, despite the insane grammatical differences. But my accent might be a problem, so I guess she has a point.

* * *

I lug my suitcase and keyboard above my seat on the first shuttle, and fasten them in the large storage compartment located there. A bag that I filled weeks earlier with travelling necessities, I carry with me to my seat. I sit down at the end of the first row of seats, place the bag at my feet, buckle up, and get comfortable. The pilot gives me a boring run-down of safety precautions, and then we're off.

I fell asleep pretty soon after we took off. I guess I really should have drank my coffee this morning. We took off at about 2:00pm, and checking my watch, it was now 5:30pm. According to my mother, I would arrive at the airport in the Mistral region at around 6:00pm, where I can eat and hop on the 6:30pm flight to Beacon. We would be flying for most of the night, and I was told the seats on the larger shuttle will have reclining seats, as well as a large window section for sight-seeing. However, the shuttle I'm currently on could probably fit 10 people comfortably, and only had 2 rooms- the pilot's quarters and the room I was in.

I shift uncomfortably in my armor. This morning's conditioning must have caught up with me as I slept. I feel almost nauseous as shift in my seat, barely able to reach down and grab the bag I left at my feet hours ago. I reach in and retrieve a small bottle of aspirin pills and a travel-sized bottle of water, and take the suggested dose.

There really isn't much to do, now that I'm no longer tired. Nothing on the shuttle seems interesting enough to spend my time on. I settle in my seat and grimace. After a few minutes of brainstorming, I decide to retrieve some paper and a pencil, which I kept in the bag at my feet, and brainstorm some lyrics for a song I've been meaning to finish.

The first paper is littered with small phrases and lists of rhyming words, all in English, while the second paper is my current product. The rest of the papers are blank, so I put them back in my bag. I use the arm of my chair as a hard surface, and let my mind roam.

* * *

When my mother talked about the second shuttle being much bigger than the first one, I didn't think she meant THIS big. The shuttle I rode into the Mistral region on was easily 5 times smaller than this second shuttle- like a tennis ball compared to a basketball. It sat silently on the runway as I exited the smaller shuttle and entered the airport.

"Welcome to the Mistral region!" an automated voice calls from the doorway. "Make sure to visit the front counter if you have any complaints or problems concerning your flight. Enjoy your stay!"

'[What a toy,]' Logic scoffs. '[You would think that they would have some decent AI in this part of the world.]'

'Well, this airport isn't exactly in a prime location of the Mistral region.' I look to the dry, rolling hills outside. 'I'm sure there's plenty of places in this region that can afford human greeters, at least.'

I reach into my bag and pull out enough money for a small meal, and head to the small food court. The white marble-floored area was littered with 4-chair tables, with the food stalls against the far wall. It wasn't exactly packed with people, and it was easy to pick out the other aspiring hunters and huntresses out of the crowds.

One group in particular catches my eye. Mostly consisting of hunters and huntresses, this group is completely surrounding a single huntress. She is dressed in sleeveless brown and gold armor, accompanied by a red spear and shield. Her blood-red hair, kept in a high ponytail- and kept out of her eyes with a fitted bronze-esque crown- extends to her waist, where a blood-red cloth starts continues to her ankles. Everyone seemed to be trying for her attention at once. While I could not see her facial expression, the tone of her voice suggested that she was completely calm and collected.

'How do people do that?'

'[Do what?]'

'How is it possible for someone to have so much attention on them, yet stay so calm? I can barely handle talking to 2 or 3 people at a time, and that girl is taking to at least 15 people at once!'

'[Some people are people-people. I take it that she is pretty popular, and she's gotten used to the treatment.]'

'I don't think I could ever get used to something like that. I certainly _hope _I never have to.'

I walk past the group towards the line of food stalls. I'm not very hungry, and nothing looks particularly appetizing. I settle with a chef salad and an iced tea, and move to find a modest table, away from any obnoxiously-loud crowd. As I pass the group again, curiosity gets the better of me. I look over my shoulder one last time, to try and get a peek at this saint-of-a-huntress' face.

Eye contact.

Not just any eye contact, though, not the kind that happens in a crowded hallway when someone walks in front of something you were looking at. No. She was looking directly at me as I walked away, and now we were looking at each other. Her interested, vivid green eyes meet mine for only a split second, before I snap my head back around and walk quickly to a quiet table, well away from the group- concentrating a little harder than usual on keeping myself presentable.

I take my seat at a round, white table, with 2 seats. A large garden of assorted bushes and flowers now separate me from the commotion of the bustling crowds, and I immediately let out a deep sigh of relief.

'[I recognize that girl, Alan.]'

'Oh?'

'[That was Pyrrha Nikos. She is one of, if not the best fighter in the Mistral region. She graduated top of her class at Sanctum, and is the current reigning champion of the Mistral Regional Tournament. She's held that position for 4 years straight- longer than anyone before her.]'

'Wow.' I furrow my brow and defocus my eyes as I remember that split second we shared. 'She certainly fits the role of a star athlete. Tall, muscular, collected…' I shove a fork-full of salad in my mouth. '…popular, sociable…' I furrow my brow deeper. 'She's my competition this year?'

'[Well, not necessarily.]' Logic detaches from my neck and flies onto the table, landing on my napkin. "[She might end up being your ally, you know. Beacon Academy has an interesting way of choosing how teams are made, and it changes every year. If I remember correctly, your sister said that her friend Morgan met her partner basically by accident, and the school kept them as partners.]"

"Well that certainly doesn't help my odds. I'll just be grateful if my partner doesn't end up being some dumb brute, or someone who I immediately conflict with."

"[Cheer up. If she's here as well, that means you both qualified to attend Beacon! You are obviously at least of similar strength and intelligence to her.]"

I shrug, and take another bite of my salad.

I finish my meal in silence. I still have a few minutes before I am expected at the runway, so I take this time to roam the airport, among other things. Logic insisted on staying detached from me until we got on the shuttle, so it hovers on my right shoulder as we walk- observing the architecture and culture of the surrounding buildings, while it's still bright enough to see outside.

At 6:25pm, I take my place in line at the check-in, grab my luggage, and begin the walk to the gigantic shuttle that will be transporting me to Beacon.

The sky is a gorgeous gold, with yellow-tinted clouds spotting the sky. A cool breeze blows over me as I step out into the evening sun and follow, single file, into the shuttle. I catch myself staring at the clouds again, but this time I correct myself and look straight ahead rather than continuing my cloud-watching.

Logic begins to say something, but quickly stops itself. It chooses to instead return to its place on my neck, where it then decides to speak to me internally.

'[She's looking at you.]'

'Who?' I raise an eyebrow, even though I know Logic can't see it.

'[Pyrrha Nikos; the girl whom we talked about over your dinner. She's 5 people behind us in line.]'

I shrug. 'Then let her look, it doesn't affect me in any way.'

There are a good few seconds of silence.

'[You realize that she might be intending to speak to you, right?]'

I swallow hard. 'What makes you think that?'

'[She was looking at you as you passed her in the food court, and now she's looking at you again. You haven't shown any acknowledgement of her existence besides that split second you made eye contact.]'

'That's ridiculous. I can't imagine why she'd want to talk to me. I'm sure she can talk with way more exciting people than me.'

'[Who knows? She might want to _actually_ talk to you, or maybe she just wants to yell at you for not praising her like everyone else.]'

I roll my eyes at Logic's adamancy. 'Whatever, man. It'll sort itself out.'

* * *

The inside of the shuttle was much bigger than it looked from the outside. Rather than 3 rows of 3 seats, like on the first shuttle, this larger shuttle could comfortably sit 50 people. All 50 seats were able to recline, and the quality of the seats was substantial compared to the seats on the smaller shuttle.

A small staircase down and a doorway lead you to a long hall-way like room, with large half-circle windows lining the sides. It's rightfully titled the Skybox by the other students. A good majority of the students were already in the room, watching out of the windows on either side or chatting quietly between each other. Enormous metal wings that assist in the shuttle's flight sit motionless outside the windows.

The only thing I like more than peace and quiet is a good view. While we aren't even off the ground yet, I already wish we were, so I could see what the surrounding area looks like. I've always enjoyed high elevations, especially cliff sides. Something about looking down, and everything in sight being so small- but in reality might be a lot bigger than I think- helps me think.

As much as I'd love to stay in the skybox, I decide to wait it out- too many people. I return to my seat in the enclosed area of the shuttle as rest of the hunters and huntresses pile in, and within a few minutes, we are lifting off.

I recline my seat, rest my head on my left fist, and close my eyes, enjoying the quickly-receding silence as the shuttle ascends into the sky. I concentrate on the specific sounds; the flow of the air conditioner; the hum of the shuttle's engines; the patterns of wind resistance against the wings of the shuttle; the constant beating of my heart; and I find somewhat of a rhythm. I am practically conducting an orchestra of misfit machinery in a matter of minutes. I decide that I will stay like this until we reach maximum altitude, and then I'll go out into the skybox and enjoy the view until it's too dark to see anything. But for now, I'll sit quietly and enjoy the silence while it lasts.

* * *

**Perspective: Pyrrha Nikos**

I'm sure I saw that boy get on the shuttle. However, he is nowhere to be found. One would think that someone with such a unique set of armor would be easier to spot in a crowd, but I have seen neither hide nor hair of him since we boarded.

No one else on the shuttle seems to know where he is, either. He is certainly not the sociable type, based on our little encounter in the airport, but I didn't expect him to go full introvert on me before I got a chance to speak to him.

I decide to recheck the shuttle's cabin, since it was the first place I looked. He might have slipped passed me while I was checking another area of the shuttle.

The cabin is a tranquil silent. Scattered among the seats are a few familiar faces, and some new ones as well. I study the room back and forth multiple times, and almost consider giving up until I see a small tuft of dark brown hair peeking out above a seat near the back of the plane. It's got to be him.

My heels tap noisily against the metal walkway as I head towards the seat of interest. If he is awake, he would surely hear me coming. However, I bite my tongue and decide to wait until I am sure it was the boy I was looking for before I bother to change my approach.

My suspicions were correct. Hidden as far away from the noise of the skybox, the boy was reclined in his seat, head balanced on his hand, with his eyes shut. Asleep, I'm sure. But he must have been only sleeping lightly, because I am halfway down the aisle when I am met with his stunning blue-green eyes for the second time today.

The moment we make eye contact, I notice him flinch slightly. His eyes adjust and focus on me as he straightens up his seat. I walk to stand at the end of the isle, and I can finally get a good look at him.

He's tall- a good few inches taller than I am. He appears to be quite the runner, with lean arm muscles and toned leg muscles- mostly covered by his armor. His short, dark brown hair sits slightly parted over his eyebrows and ears. His sharp chin and smooth cheek bones only proved to highlight the main attraction: his eyes. His eyes are like nothing I have ever seen before. The outer-most circle of his irises are a deep blue, and they slowly fade into a lovely verdant green, until reaching the pitch black center of his pupils. The tuft of hair I saw from the walkway turned out to be a stray hair, which looked quite silly sticking straight up as it was.

"I'm sorry, I hope I didn't wake you." I say out of habit.

His eyes soften from defensive to friendly. "Don't be sorry. I wasn't asleep. I was just enjoying the silence while it lasts."

I smile lightly at his honesty, but he returns my smile with, instead, a look of curiosity.

"I assume you're here for a reason?"

So he knows my intentions. Okay, well I'll try and keep this blunt.

"Well, yes. I didn't recognize you among the other hunters and huntresses at the airport food court, and I wanted to get a chance to say hello!"

This time, I get a genuine smile from him. "Well, alright. It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Alan Burgundy, and you?"

I hold my breath for a second. "You mean you don't recognize me?"

"Should I?"

He must not be from the Mistral region, which explains why he doesn't recognize me, and why he decided to sit by himself at the airport. How refreshing! I might be able to have a real conversation with someone for once, without them pestering me about my achievements.

"Well, most people here do. I'm Pyrrha Nikos. It's a pleasure." I point to the seat next to him with an open hand. "Do you mind if I sit?"

"Sure, I don't see why not."

I take my seat at his side and get comfortable. I catch him nervously shifting further away from me as I place Miló and Akoúo̱ at my feet.

"So, what brings you to the Mistral region?" I ask enthusiastically.

"So you know I'm foreign, huh? Well…" He leans back slightly in his chair, in figurative thought. "I am from a region a few hundred kilometers west of here, and there was no direct flight to Beacon from my hometown, so they flew me here… since this is the closest airport to my hometown that goes straight to Beacon."

"You wouldn't happen to be from the far west, would you? I can't quite remember its name, but it's a flatland that is mostly dominated by Sand-Grimm and is only scarcely inhabited by humans and faunus alike."

"That's the place. My family operates a small ranch there, where we harvest crops and such to take into the capital city to sell. The region doesn't have a permanent English name, to my knowledge, but it's called the ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ region in our language."

His pronunciation of the word baffles me. "Sorry, say that again?"

"▓▓▓▓▓▓."

"See-in-gray-noss?"

"That's it. Ciéngránós." He send me a reassuring grin. "But roll the 'R' a little more." He rolls his tongue in practiced perfection. Show off.

"So you're a native speaker?"

"Yeah. I was told that I needed to be speaking English if I was to be attending Beacon, and languages have always been easy for me. I learned English from an old hunter who taught me some basic Grimm-fighting skills, as well."

At the mention of fighting, I look to his feet to try and identify his weapon. But despite looking well around him, and around the room, there doesn't appear to be any unattended weapons. "Speaking of fighting Grimm, where exactly is your weapon?"

Alan simply points to his neck, and before I am able to ask what that gesture means, a small compartment on the upper back of his armor opens up, and several small, maroon and black rings file out. They circle and loop in the air above our heads before resting neatly in Alan's lap.

"These rings make up the pieces of my weapon." He says as he picks up a few. "Most of them function the same. However, the exact way they work is a lot harder to explain than it looks. A few have specific rings have other functions, though." He puts down the rings in his hands, and reaches into a bag in the chair the other side of him and pulls out a much larger ring. He presses a few buttons on the perimeter of the ring, and suddenly the ring begins to speak in an almost identical- but slightly obvious- imitation of Alan's voice. "For example, this is M.I.C, or Mic. It stands for Mechanical Introspective Communicator. Basically, it connects to a little chip in my neck," he points to the back of his neck, at a piece of metal covering a good majority of his cervical vertebrae. "And is able to transfer thoughts into words… among other things."

"If it is able to speak for you, then why aren't you using it constantly?" I ask out of curiosity. "Having a piece of machinery that would talk for me would do wonders for me." Every bit of that is the truth, as well. I could be completely occupied, like eating or sparring, and still be able to hold a conversation with someone- and he hasn't even explained its other features!

He reaches to turn off the larger ring, and returns to regular speech. "It's actually quite the opposite concept. The only reason I'm not using Mic right now is because I'm trying to get used to speaking English, and actually communication person-to-person. In the Ciéngránós region, the only people I ever had to speak to were my family, my personal trainer, and the occasional salesman. I've used Mic for almost all of these encounters since I got the weapon… uh," he looks off into the distance, obviously choosing the incoming verb carefully. "Installed, I guess? Since I got the weapon installed a few years ago." He puts a hand behind his head, flattening the stray hair that had been bothering me in the process. "I'm not really a… people person."

I raise my eyebrows and smile at his modesty. "You don't need to be a people person at Beacon." I say quietly. "As long as you can fight well, and communicate with the other 3 members of your team, your actions will make up for any lack of speaking skills." Considering he is flying on the same shuttle as me to Beacon, I can easily assume he is at least capable of holding his own against the Grimm. However, I'm ever so interested in seeing how he does in a real team fight.

He scoffs. "You sound like my mother." He says with a satirical grin. We share a hushed laugh.

He begins to put away the rest of his weapon when a small piece of metal emerges from his neck. Confused, I point to it. "Is that… supposed to come off?"

It takes him a second to find what I am pointing to, but immediately recognizes it. He sighs. "Unfortunately."

"[Good Evening, Miss Nikos. I am an L.O.G.I.C. - a Logic-Operating Graphic Information Computer. Call me Logic! While I may be small, I have the equivalent of a human IQ of 135. I function as a motivator, calculator, and travelling companion to Alan.]"

He swats at Logic. "More like an overly-protective parent." He turns to me, and points to AI, now hovering between us. "Logic is another piece of my weapon that has a specific purpose. It helps me control the other pieces of my weapon from long distance, and _usually _is pretty useful." Alan rolls his eyes. "It has a mind of its own, and only proves to get worse when it's detached from me. I apologize ahead of time if you find it picking fights with the local bullies."

Logic flies up to meet Alan's eyes. "[Those gentlemen were overstaying their welcome. I don't see why you still think it was a bad idea for me to intervene. It's not like _you _would have stopped them from making a scene.]"

Alan furrows his brow. "By interfering, you _caused _a scene. I still have scars on my back from all the broken glass cuts I got that night." He reaches under his left arm with his right hand, rubbing the thin fabric between two pads of his armor.

As they continue to argue, I can't help but laugh. The entire idea of Alan arguing with his weapon is both fascinating and nerve-racking. It makes me glad Miló and Akoúo̱ are unable to backtalk me like his weapon can. Noticing my laughter, Alan nervously fidgets in his chair before forcibly returning Logic to where he originally was on his neck.

"Logic appears to be heck of a personality, huh?" I say to lighten the mood.

"Yeah… one of a kind…" He rolls his eyes. "Sometimes I wish they'd given me something a little more manageable."

It's obvious that he could ramble on and on about Logic, based on the tone of his voice, but I can also tell he might not be so comfortable with talking about it. I look to quickly change the subject.

"So… what do you plan on doing for the duration of the flight?"

Alan gives me a particular look that I can't quite read. Either he is seriously confused I asked, or he is trying to read my face as hard as I am trying to read his. We sit in silence for a few seconds as he continues to look at me. I try my best to look as innocent as possible, hiding my intentions.

..! He… his eyes… changed color?

For a split second there, his eyes changed from green and blue to a glossy gold, and then back to normal. I know I wasn't hallucinating. That can only mean one thing: that he inherited his semblance from someone who fought in the War all those years ago; that he has the very valuable intelligence semblance that schools like Beacon are trying so hard to find.

That explains a lot about him, actually, like his slight introverted-ness and value of silence. I wonder what variant he has! I'd love to spar with him if he has the fighting variant. I wonder if he would be willing to talk about it. But then again, I suppose I shouldn't pry too hard; I only just met him. Another time.

* * *

**Perspective: Alan Burgundy**

'[She noticed it.]'

'No she didn't.'

'[I'm fairly sure she did. If you want to risk her noticing it a second time by doing it again to check if she actually noticed it in the first place, be my guest.]'

'Wait what?'

'[Exactly. Now stop talking to me and talk to her.]'

Pyrrha continued to look at me with her longing, innocent eyes. However, she wasn't smiling as big as she was before I used my semblance. Whether it's out of impatience, or that she saw and understood what I just did, it made me extensively nervous.

At least I knew exactly what she asked that question for, anyways: she enjoys my unique personality and the fact that I don't treat her like a celebrity- that it's "refreshing". Among her other immediate thoughts were Interest, Amusement, and… one that I'm not so sure I understand yet. Emotions change from person to person, in strength, quantity, and importance. I typically like describing emotions as textures. While the strength, quantity, and importance may change, they all "feel" differently from each other- and identical emotions share the same "texture". But other than that, especially if I have never had a chance to find out what the emotion I was reading is, it's a toss-up. I'm hoping being exposed to more people at Beacon will help me sharpen this.

"I was going to go to the skybox for a few minutes, after most of the crowd leaves and before it gets too dark. Other than that, I don't know." I shrug. "I slept most of the flight from Ciéngránós to here, so I haven't really had a chance to see the landscape."

"The area around the airport isn't necessarily anything to write home about." Pyrrha says after a quick glance down the aisle to the skybox room. "We'll be going over a large body of water later tonight, but I'm afraid it'll be too dark to see the coastline from this far up by the time we get there."

"You were told the flight schedule?" I ask, confused.

"Not exactly. I just happen to know where Beacon is located in relation to the airport. Assuming we're to be flying in a straight line to Beacon, we'll be flying over water for most of the trip."

"Dang. I was hoping I would be able to see the area before it got too dark, and while I had enough room to actually look out the window without people constantly shoulder checking me." I say, defeated.

"I might be able to convince some of the others to give us a good view out one of the windows, if you want." Pyrrha says with a glance back down the aisle. She turns back to me with her gorgeous green eyes focused on mine and a small smile. "I'm sure that it wouldn't be a problem."

Words escape me. This is the first instance I've ever been speechless due to someone's kindness. As much as I want to thank her for going out of her way to do such a thing, I wasn't really planning on being able to go out to the skybox. It's not exactly a big deal for me to see the Mistral region before dark, and I'm especially weary of causing a scene- assuming she actually follows through. But… why would she want to do that for me? I don't understand.

"I-I-I… Y-you don't really have to, honest!" I say as quickly as possible. "I-I'm sure I can just go out after everyone leaves and before it's too dark and get my fill. Plus, it'll be morning well before we reach Beacon, so I can find a good spot by one of the skybox windows for when we actually arrive!"

"We will be at Beacon for almost four years straight, Alan. If anything, you'll be sick of looking at it by the time we graduate." Pyrrha's smile widens. "I insist."

She picks up her spear and shield laying at her feet as she stands up. She turns to me and beckons me to follow her. All I can do is gawk.

"You're sure?" I whisper, paying careful attention to not stutter.

"Mhm! Come on."

She holds out her hand to me. I look over the seats in front of me, towards the door leading to the skybox, and grit my teeth. Other students are already leaving the skybox, and I assume that means it must be at least close to night. The seats around mine have yet to be filled, but many rows near the front of the cabin are completely full. Students talking, laughing, sleeping- with earplugs, of course-, and some sitting by their lonesome with a book.

I look back at Pyrrha, her hand still extended. She is still smiling, but it appears that she was following my eyes around the room, because she had only just swiveled her head back to me when I took her hand and stood up.

"Sure, why not?" I say with an uneasy eye roll.

* * *

We spent the rest of the daylight in the skybox. Pyrrha was right; this part of the Mistral region wasn't particularly eye candy. But it was nice to at least be able to see what little I was able to see in the setting sunlight without being interrupted by someone trying to get a good view as well.

The people on the shuttle really do seem to respect Pyrrha. From what I've heard from Logic and the other students, she is also one heck of a fighter. I'm not so sure I'd be able to hold my own in a 1v1 sparring match with her. Then again, we're both qualified to attend Beacon. That has to equate to something, right?

We head back into the enclosed area of the shuttle. Pyrrha turns to address someone calling her name as I continue back to my seat. Noticing that I kept walking, she calls my name.

"Sorry, Alan! I'm needed here. We can meet up later." She calls from across the room.

I raise my hand in recognition. "Alright. Thank you so much."

Pyrrha smiles. "My pleasure. Take care!"

I smile and nod. Stuff happens, I guess. Plus, I'm not so sure I'm comfortable with wasting her time the entire flight. I'm sure there's plenty of more important or popular people she'd rather spend her time with.

I head back to and sit in my seat. I reach into my bag in the seat next to mine and pull out the small stack of papers that I had been scribbling lyrics on during the first flight. I'd made a lot of progress. However, I was still having trouble rhyming the lines in each verse. I begin to brainstorm words that rhyme with "vendetta" when I hear Pyrrha laugh- distinguishable from the other noises now filling the room.

I sit up straight in my chair, and look over the rows of seats to Pyrrha, who is busily chatting away with her friends near the front of the room. I pout ever so slightly. She almost makes me jealous of her tenacity and friendliness. I lean back into my chair, and recline it as far as it will go. I stare at the ceiling of the room.

'[You really should have stuck around with her. Her friends wouldn't have minded.]'

'You don't know that.'

'[Of course not, but I know you. You're not the type of guy who would make a lot of fuss in a conversation, and it's not like they'd be offended if you did.]'

I roll my eyes. 'Pyrrha said they needed to talk to her. That's not my business.'

'[Well fine. If you want to live your life as a prude, go ahead. You're at the peak of your adolescence, and you're still too shy to hold a conversation for 10 minutes with someone. How do you expect to survive once you're on a team at Beacon? Why, you can't even keep eye cont-]'

'Goodnight, Logic.'

'[You're not even remotely tired, Alan. Why are you saying that?]'

'Goooooooodnight, Logic.'

'[Oh, so that's how you're going to play, huh? Fine. I'll get you back tomorrow. I'll get you so flustered that you'll _have_ to apologize before I ever stop. I'll even go well out of my way to make sure it's a pretty girl who gets you so flustered. You just watch.]'

'I'd like to see you try. Goodnight.'

I grab some of the earplugs in a pocket of my armor and put them in. I close my eyes, listening carefully to the sound of my heartbeat; the sound of the air resistance on the plane's wings; the rumble of the floor as people walk constantly back and forth between rows of seats, and find a rhythm. I slow my breathing, put my hands behind my head, and eventually drift to sleep.

* * *

_**Note:** Wow! This chapter alone more than doubled the word count of this story so far with 5,732 words! I wasn't kidding when I said I'd make these chapters longer! I was going to split this chapter into two parts, but I decided it against it, which is why this chapter took so long. I might consider splitting these chapters into two pieces, if they're going to be this long, in the future. _

_P__lease make sure to write a review on how I did! I would love some feedback. _

_C__hapter 2 should be out by the end of the week, if my job doesn't get too badly in the way._


	4. New Friends Part 1

_**Note: **__Wow! Chapter 1 really spiked the amount of views I got! Thank you so much for the follows and favs as well! Let it be said now that I don't intend on having Pyrrha being a permanent character in this story. I really enjoy her personality, though, so I might bring her back every now and then- but no promises! Enjoy._

* * *

**Perspective: Neith Ammópetra**

Wow! The view from up here is so amazing! I can see the entirety of Signal Academy! Ooh, this is so exciting! My first day at Beacon couldn't have been any more perfect! The sky is cloudless, the sun is shining bright, and the water is shining ever so beautifully! I'm sure if there were any birds around, they'd be singing!

A really loud 'zzzeroup!' sound blasts over the speakers of the windowed room. Everyone in the room turns their heads to face a purple-caped woman appear on a 3D-projector in front of one of the windows. Her hair is a pretty platinum blonde, kept up in a bun. She wears a fancy monochrome outfit, only highlighting her ghost-like purple cape. She must be one of the higher-ups at the school, based on her posture… and the fact that she's being broadcasted throughout the entire shuttle.

"Hello, and welcome to Beacon!"  
"Who's that?" I hear someone say nearby.

"My name is Glynda Goodwitch."

"Oh." The girl pipes again.

I wish people would just be patient instead of asking so many questions.

"You are among a privileged few who have received the honor of being selected to attend this prestigious academy. Our world is experiencing an _incredible_ time of peace, and as future huntsman and huntresses, it is _your_ duty to uphold it. You have demonstrated the courage needed for such a task, and now it is _our _turn to provide you with the knowledge and the training to protect our world."

With a second 'zzzeroup!', the woman is gone. Everyone is finally noticing the awesome view outside, and I can't help but take a look outside as well- Signal academy really is a beautiful place.

I wish my friends were here to share this view with me, though. None of them got 'selected to attend this prestigious academy.' It really stinks. I wish I had at least someone to talk to- even if I never see them ever again after we reach Beacon. Being alone on a long trip like this really doesn't suit me.

I look around, and I see men and women dressed in a rainbow of colors. Big, heavy, and probably expensive, weapons litter the window-side seats as well. It reminds me of when I first went to go pick a weapon when I was younger. I've always had good aim, but I don't really like the idea of carrying around a big, heavy gun. I figure the next best thing to a gun is a bow, right? Plus, my weapon is super compact. I can pack it in my bag and not have to worry about losing it or anything! But still… all of these fancy weapons really make me reconsider whether or not I am qualified to be here or not. In all fairness, I _can_ tip my arrows with dust and other things, making for interesting results, but what good is a bow when someone can do the same exact thing I can but in rapid-fire?

Whatever, I won't let it bother me. I'm obviously smart enough to be here, and I'm obviously strong enough, too. Hopefully my teammates will be just as strong, if not stronger than I am.

* * *

I'm one of the first people out the exit when we finally port at Beacon's landing dock. I don't get far before a blonde boy runs past me, to the nearest trash can, and let loose something I paid careful attention _not _to look at. Poor kid, he must have airsickness. I try to quickly walk past him to avoid anything that I might regret.

Wow. Signal Academy's view doesn't have _anything_ on this. Beacon looks amazing! The circles of marble pillars, the sparkling blue rings of water, the greenery, it's like something out of a TV show! The biggest pillar has some weird floating green orbs in it. I wonder what those are for.

Everyone seems to be gathering in the central plaza area. Some people are checking out the view, some are finding their friends, workers are lugging around people's luggage, and a few people are occupied with their weapons or armor.

There's that feeling again. I can't seem to shake it. Snap out of it, Neith, you'll be fine- really! You don't even _know _these people! They might be strong, but they might not be anywhere _close_ to as smart as you! Or maybe they're smarter, but not as resourceful! Keep your head up.

I force myself to regain my posture and walk straight to the main auditorium, where we are going to be briefed. Maybe I'll meet someone there, who wasn't on my shuttle, who I can talk to.

The auditorium is already packed with people when I arrive. I can barely see the stage from where I'm standing. Being short really is annoying, sometimes. I wish I was wearing my heels.

Once the flow of students entering the auditorium stops, the echo of a microphone silences the room.

"I'll… keep this brief."

That must be Professor Ozpin. He looks way too young for his white hair. I hope it's dyed or something.

"You have travelled here, today, in search of knowledge; to hone your craft and acquire new skills, and when you are finished, you plan to dedicate your life to the protection of the people."

Exactly!

"But I look amongst you, and all I see is wasted energy… in need of purpose; direction."

Harsh. I'm not too sure I like Professor Ozpin, now.

"You assume knowledge will free you of this, but your time at this school will prove that knowledge can only carry you so far. It is up to _you_ to take the first step."

The room is dead silent. I look around, and everyone seems to have the same, distressed look on their face as I do. I hope Professor Ozpin is only doing this for intimidation, because it's working.

Professor Ozpin walks offstage, and the woman who spoke to the passengers of the shuttle stands up to the mic.

"You will gather in the ballroom tonight. Tomorrow your initiation begins. Be ready. You are dismissed."

Wait, Tomorrow? It's, like, 8am! What are we supposed to do all day?

* * *

**Perspective: Alan Burgundy**

'So we have all day to do whatever we want. Great. There's nothing more fun than walking around a place you've never been before, with people you've never met, for upwards of 12 hours.'

'[In all fairness, what if Initiation was today? I doubt everyone here is completely ready to perform at their best.]'

'Well yeah, sure, but what do they expect us to _do_ for 12 hours?'

'[Make friends? Explore the grounds? Alan, you're old enough to understand that they don't expect much of you except that you don't do anything ridiculous and reckless.]'

I roll my eyes. 'Tell that to those girls who caused a dust explosion in the plaza.'

I didn't particularly trust the school to handle my keyboard, so I ended up taking it with me. They took my suitcase and my other things, though, and are apparently leaving them in the ballroom for when we return from… whatever they expect us to do for the next 12 hours.

I mean, there's thousands of things I _could _do right now, it's just that a solid 99% of those things I _don't _want to do. I wager that a majority of the students will be out and about anyways, so I decide to just walk around until I find something to do, or until lunch.

After about 2 hours of circling the academy, I eventually sit on a stone bench in one of the gardens scattering the campus. I passed it a few times, actually, but I had only thought of coming back here because it seemed like no one went this far onto campus. This place is especially nice because of the decorations.

There are dozens of different flowers, filed neatly into rows and sorted by color. I could name most of them, since plant species were one of the things my mother taught me before I was old enough to tend our ranch. Rosaecae rosa, Lilioideae tulipa, Lupinus argenteus, the list goes on. Beacon really did a good job at giving their gardens a wide range of species.

I figure that I might as well try to finalize my lyric drafts, since I never got around to it on the flight from the Mistral region. Plus, I'm sure that all this nature will help with my creative process.

* * *

Not even 30 minutes in, and I get interrupted by a man, making an unnecessary amount of noise, sitting uncomfortably close to me while I was deep in thought. Or maybe I was asleep. At this point, what's the difference?

The original shock of the sudden volume change makes me flinch slightly. That small flinch ends up with me crumpling my paper slightly and snapping the tip of my pencil off in the middle of a sentence, which, in and of itself, is annoying enough.

"Hey man," His voice bellows alone in the silence. "What's your deal, sitting out here all alone?"

I finally look up to meet his eyes. His eyes are a deep brown. He's my height, but much more muscular. His dark skin contrasts well with his blue, white, and black armor. He wears heavily embroidered leather armor on his upper left arm, and his right shoulder is mostly bare. He carries a large circular shield, with his symbol embroidered into it, on his back, accompanied by a long machete-like weapon, in a holster, on his hip. It looks to function as some sort of gun, as well.

"I dunno. There's nothing else to do. And now there's even less to do, since you made me break the graphite off my pencil as a result of your shouting." I try to say it as calm as I can. Even though I would love to bark at him, I am in no position to be making enemies.

"Well geez, sorry. Here, I got you." He takes the pencil out of my hand, forcefully I might add, and proceeds to take a small butterfly knife out of his pocket. He flips the knife open, and begins to sharpen my pencil.

"I… are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Look, I'm not going to slice you up or anything." He says with a sarcastic eye roll, limply swinging the handle of the butterfly knife towards me. "I've sharpened pencils this way more times than you'd imagine. Don't worry about it."

He sharpened the pencil with an amazing amount of precision, to my surprise. It looks almost as if it was sharpened by an electric sharpener. He hands it back to me, and I test the pencil's tip on the slightly crumpled paper I'm still holding.

"Wow, impressive. Thank you."

"Don't mention it!" He grins ear-to-ear. "The name's Zaffre, Zaffre Ogoun. And you?"

"Alan Burgundy."

"Pleased to meet ya!" He extends his hand, which I meet in a handshake. His grip is intentionally strong, as if to test my strength as well, so I try to grip equally as hard.

"A firm handshake, I like you already!" He laughs a little bit, but stops when he notices me not laughing with him.

"So anyways, like I was saying," He leans back into an arm stretch. I hope he doesn't intend to stay here long. "What are you doing here all by your lonesome? Besides whatever you're writing about."

"Well," I hesitate in answering. I really want to check his intentions with my semblance, but I don't want to risk it. The last thing I want is the entire school knowing about my semblance. "I don't really like crowds, and I don't really have any friends who are attending Beacon, so I'm kind of just waiting for the chips to fall where they may." I shrug.

"That's no way to make any new friends, man! You gotta get out there! There's tons of new kids who just arrived by shuttle, like, 30 minutes ago. If you don't wanna be _my_ friend, I'm sure you can find someone else in the, like, 200 new students here!"

I raise an eyebrow at the phrase 'be my friend'. That's definitely not the word I would use to describe our currently relationship right now. Maybe acquaintances… or parasite-and-host, since he's sucking up all my silence.

"I guess, but we still have all day. I don't know what they expected us to do until we're expected in the ballroom tonight."

"Man, that's the fun of it! We have, like, 8 hours to do whatever we want! As long as you don't get into a fight, they're practically letting us bounce off the walls up front!"

"Up front?"

"In the main plaza. Most of us are chilling there. The reason I'm here is because I wanted to see if anyone was in a situation like you, so I could direct them to where the party is _really_ at!" He extends his arm to points down one of the paths to our right, which wraps around the academy, towards the main plaza.

"I don't like crowds, or lots of noise, like I said. I'm much happier with sitting here all day than being in whatever _party_ you say you're having up there."

I look down at my paper. I'm practically finished with the lyrics. Maybe 10 minutes of touching up, and I'll be happy. But I'll have time tonight to do that, I guess.

Zaffre shrugs, and stands up to leave. A pang of guilt in me makes me immediately regret saying I wouldn't follow him back. I mean, he seems like a nice guy. Why else would he have come over here and asked me to go make some friends? I can't always rely on my semblance to determine who is good and who is bad.

"_But…_" I stand, with a pause for dramatic effect. Zaffre turns back to me with his eyes wide. "I'm not really in the position to finish writing this… and I guess meeting some new people wouldn't _hurt…_" I roll my eyes and sigh again.

He suddenly wraps his arm around me and pulls me close. "Attaboy! Maybe you're not such a weirdo after all!" He was really judging me that hard?

"Uh… personal space, please." I mutter.

"Oh! Sorry." He lets go of me.

"I hope it's not too crowded up there. Or loud, for that matter."

"Come on, trust me. There's nothing better than talking to a bunch of pretty girls who can also kick ass!" He does a little martial-arts-like move. I smirk at this childish gesture. I doubt anyone with intent to hurt me would be so ridiculous at our first encounter. Plus, my dad was always talking about 'hooking up' at Beacon, saying that girls at apply-to-enter academies are _so_ much different than the girls I've dated before. I figure it's worth a shot.

'[This is a bad idea, Alan, and you know it.]' Logic finally says after nearly 3 hours of silence.

'No, I think I'll be fine.'

'[Alan, are you sleep deprived? You're about to go walk into a crowd of 150, or more, people all talking at once! Imagine the headache you'll get.]'

'If 150 people can stand the noise, so can I.'

I try to 'say' that last bit as firmly as possible, and Logic gets the message.

'[Okay then, Alan. But it's _your _death wish.]'

'Oh, whatever.'

I continue behind Zaffre through the garden and down the smooth stone path towards the front of the building. I occupy myself most of the walk by looking up at the clouds. I can't see any obvious shapes in any of the tiny clouds, sadly, since it's a mostly cloudless day. I scowl slightly and return to face forward.

Ahead of Zaffre, walking the opposite direction, is a girl with short, spiky, jet black hair. Her armor can't even really be considered armor, with her outfit consisting mostly of a thin, tan cloth and assorted accessories. The only thing especially protective about her outfit is a gauntlet she wears on her right hand. Her aura must be pretty strong if she trusts herself enough to wear basically no protection.

Just then, as if it hadn't happened similarly the day before, me and this girl make eye contact. Her eyes are an olive green. Much to my surprise, though, neither of us turn away once we realize the situation. She looks me up and down quickly as we grow closer, then looks back up to me one last time before we pass. I turn my head back to see if she was still looking at me, but she wasn't.

I turn to face forward and stare into nothingness, gawking.

'Wow, she's pretty.'

'[Oh please, Alan, you don't even know her name. Don't assume she's automatically of good character.]'

I scoff. 'What's wrong with me just complimenting her? You're trying to beat me to a punch that I might not even take.'

'[That analogy doesn't even make sense.]'

'Shut up.'

* * *

_And so begins the romance part of this story, and probably the most interesting part to write. As of right now, I have about 5 possible routes I can take with the direction of this story. If you want to see something specific, feel free to PM me!_

_ I'll be introducing a lot of characters in Part 2, but most won't reappear for many chapters, if at all. Part 2 will be up later this week! _

_P__lease feel free to write a review with some praise or criticism, it really helps me out!_


	5. New Friends Part 2

**Perspective: Neith Ammópetra**

Wow… that boy was really…really…tall! He must be, like, 6 foot 2 inches! I wonder if he's a new student here like I am. Oh, wait! He was walking with that really loud blue-haired guy who said he was going to find some other new students who aren't in the plaza and bring them over, so that means he _must_ be a new student!

I look back to the two, hoping they haven't turned the corner towards the front of the school yet, but they already did. I shrug as I continue towards my intended location: the flower garden in the far-most left corner of the academy's courtyard.

One of the new students who just arrived showed me a map of the school grounds, and he said that there were plenty of different types of gardens all over the academy grounds. Water plant garden, flower garden, tree garden, that sort of thing. I wanted to make sure I got to see the flower garden before someone trampled it, since it seems like this new year of students is the type to do that, sadly.

The garden doesn't have much walking space. The small stone path makes a T shape inside the large circular garden. Multiple rows of flowers of different colors and sizes circle a small stone bench in the center of the enclosement. How pretty!

Walking down the stone path, towards the bench, I notice a large rectangular suitcase-like bag leaning against the side of the bench. It's much too long and way too thin to be a clothing suitcase. Maybe it stores something specific?

I walk over to the bag and check for a tag that might have the owner's name on it, but there's none in sight. I figure whoever left it here either forgot about it, or is coming back to get it. Either way, I don't feel too comfortable leaving it out here where someone can steal it.

The map that boy showed me earlier said that the lost-and-found is right inside the main doors, which is where Professor Ozpin spoke to us. I figure it's of my better judgment to bring it there. Hey, maybe the owner will be in the crowd in the main plaza, and he or she will get it back without any hassle!

I lean over and grip the two handles on either side of the zipper of the black travel bag with my left hand and attempt to lift. Wow, this is a lot heavier than it looks. There must be something metal in here, or maybe someone's weapon? After a few attempts, I give up on lifting it with my left hand, and switch to my right hand. My gauntlet helps me lift it with relative ease, but it is still quite heavy. This is definitely not something somebody my size should be carrying around.

I turn and return down the path I came from, towards the main plaza. Looking around, it doesn't seem like anyone would be returning to that specific garden any time soon, so I guess my judgment was right. I can't help but imagine the look on whoever's face this bag this belongs to when I return it to them as I walk a little slower than usual, to compensate for the bag's weight, towards the plaza.

* * *

**Perspective: Alan Burgundy**

There's actually less people in the main plaza than I had originally assumed. The people seem to be in large groups of 10 or more, but each group is separate from each other, making sure that there's plenty of walking room between them. Blue, Red, White, Orange, and Green hair stand out amongst the mostly normal-hair-colored students in the crowds. I can see Pyrrha's blood-red high ponytail in the center of one of the larger groups, naturally.

Zaffre directly me to a group of students who welcome Zaffre back with open arms. They say something that I've never heard before, so I have to ask.

"Uh…Zaffre?"

"Yeah?"

"What did that mean? Like, does that phrase you guys said mean anything specific?"

Zaffre raises his eyebrows. "You mean you've never heard anyone say Wuzzap before?"

"Ah… no." I shake my head lightly and furrow my brow. My English may be good, but I've never heard any slang like that before.

Zaffre chuckles. "It's quick talk for 'What's Up'! You know, like 'What's Happening?' That sort of thing."

"But that doesn't sound anything like 'What's Up'."

"That's the point! It's supposed to be like… Wuzaaaaaaaap!" He makes two peace-signs with his hands and puts them close to his chest, palms in. Soon after, one of the other boys in the group do the same. They say it back and forth a few times before finally busting into laughter.

"This is Richie, by the way." Zaffre points to the spiky-sky-blue-haired boy he was laughing with.

He extends his hand to me. "Richard Skai… with an 'A-I' and not a 'Y' in Skai. Nice to meet you."

We shake hands. Is shaking hands something everyone does? I rarely shook anyone's hand back in my hometown. Maybe it's a cultural thing. Richie has yellow-gold eyes.

Zaffre then goes around the group, pointing to each circle member and listing off their respective names.  
"That's Clark,"

"Yo!" Well at least I know what 'Yo' means. Clark is rather short, with short, styled brown hair. He has green eyes.

"That's Maverick,"

"Call me Mav. Nice to meetcha." Mav has extraordinarily white hair, and is my height. His eyes are an icy light blue.

"She's Misty,"

"Hiya!" Misty is practically beaming at me, and it kind of makes me uncomfortable. She's blonde, with vivid blue eyes.

"This is Morgan,"

"Hi!" I thought Morgan was a girl's name, but apparently it's unisex. Morgan is Zaffre's height, with dark grey hair and amber eyes.

"And finally… hey, where'd that new girl go?" Zaffre looks back around the circle.

"New girl?" I ask confused.

"Yeah, there was this girl who came over to our group before I went out and brought you over here. She was real nice. Kinda short, though."

"She said her name was Neith." Maverick adds in. "She has shoulder-length black hair, her outfit was mostly light brown…"

I make the connection almost immediately. "She has olive green eyes?" I say, pointing to my own eyes for emphasis.

"Yeah… you've seen her?"

"Me and Zaffre passed her on the way here. She was headed towards the gardens in the back of the academy, I think. That's where I was when Zaffre found me."

'["Zaffre and I," not "Me and Zaffre."]' Logic points out mid-sentence.

'Oh, hush.'

Zaffre turns to me. "Wait, we walked right passed her? No way!"

"Uh, yeah. She was directly in front of us for a good few seconds. I don't know how you missed her."

Zaffre puts a hand on the back of his head and grins wide. "I must have been daydreaming or something!" The blue-haired boy lets out a bellowing laugh that turns heads in every group near us.

Trying to avoid eye contact with any of the turned heads, I look towards the path we just returned from. I can't really make out any figures walking down the path, but remembering the garden I was in beforehand makes me remember something very important.

"Ah, ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓!" I close my eyes and touch my hands to my temples. "I forgot my ke…" I stop myself from finishing that word. "…I forgot some of my luggage at that garden because we rushed out of there. Great."

"Haha, did you just cuss, dude? Like in a different language?" Zaffre asks without even remotely understanding my problem.

"Yes, and with very good reason. That bag of luggage has something extremely valuable to me in it, and if it is lost, I'm ruined." Well, I'm not ruined if I lose it, but that would be thousands of Lien down the drain. Plus, if I don't have any instruments besides that keyboard with me right now, and I might not get another for a few weeks.

"Well don't let us stop you, go get it!" Clark points in the direction of the garden.

* * *

**Perspective: Neith Ammópetra**

This bag is really starting to weigh me down. It seems like it's getting heavier with every step I take. I am already holding it with both hands, but I'm still not anywhere close to the central plaza; I'm only just about to turn the corner towards the front of the school!

I decide to take a break right before I turn the corner. I drop the bag safely on the ground next to me and remove my gauntlet. It's not even hot outside, and my palms are sweaty from carrying it so far. Ugh! I should have never convinced myself this was a good idea.

I sit on the bag and wipe my hands on my pants. My gauntlet is running low on dust, so I doubt I will be able to make it very far without needing to refuel- but I don't have any dust with me! I cross my arms in my lap and look around. No one is around, ugh!

So what are my options? I could leave the bag here and go run into the plaza and find someone with dust, or at least someone who is strong enough to carry it. But what if someone runs by and takes the bag while I'm gone? What if the person whose bag this belongs to finds me and thinks I am trying to steal it! Oh no no no, that wouldn't be good!

Oooh, what am I gonna do? This is so frustrating!

* * *

**Perspective: Alan Burgundy**

I'm not exactly running, but I'm jogging pretty quickly down the path. My mind keeps racing through all the possibilities of what happened to my bag- the only good thing I can think of being that it's still there and untouched.

'Logic, you don't think someone stole it, did you?'

'[Probably not. I would give you a probability percentage if I had one, but my best guess is no. No one with intent to steal anything would walk into a flower garden, of all places, and steal a heavy bag from the side of a bench.]'

'It's not that heavy.'

'[Maybe to someone your size.]'

As I turn the corner to run the long stretch down the academy's longer side, I spot a girl sitting on something directly in front of me. The girl turns to me, and her eyes widen in shock. I'm about to completely tackle her because of how fast I'm going.

Without much time to stop, I try my best to lean back and get close to the ground, slamming my heels into the stone path. With a panicked shriek from the girl, and thanks to my knowledge of running stops, I manage to come to a complete stop right before colliding with her.

Sadly, despite me trying my best not to collide with her, the black-haired girl had already fallen backwards and hit her head on the stone path in panic.

"Owww ow ow ow!" She whimpered with her eyes closed shut in pain, holding the spot her head that hit the path.

I quickly rush over to her and sit on my heels to make sure she's alright.

"I'm so sorry, are you okay?" I remorsefully whisper, wanting ever so badly to meet my hand on her head, but that would be rude for a stranger to do.

She sits up and leans forward, rubbing the back of her head with one hand and using the other to support herself. "Yeah, I… oww. I'm fine. Sorry."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah… yeah." She hisses in pain one last time.

I hold one of her shoulders and help her get up. "Really, I can go find someone who can help you out, if you need something." Now I just feel like I'm talking out of my ass due to the adrenaline rush.

"No, really." She opens her eyes and meets mine as she finally stands completely up. "I'm… fine..."

She softens her eyes and smiles for just a moment, but then switches quickly to a stern pout. "Why were you running so quickly? You could have run me over!"

"I'm sorry I just…" I back away from her and put my hands, palms out, close to my chest in submission. "I needed to go get something from the garden back here, and I wasn't expecting someone to be just sitting on the path."

The black-haired girl grows a very irritated look on her face. "Well I was _sitting here_ because I can't go any further with _this _thing! Someone _forgot_ it in the flower garden back there, and I was going to bring it up to the front, because there's a lost and found up there, and I _really_ wanted to be helpful, and I _really_ didn't want it to get stolen, but it's _way_ too heavy, and my gauntlet is all out of dust, and just… gah!" She throws her hands up, and then holds them on the back of her neck. "I was gonna go find someone who can help me bring it to the lost and found just before you nearly crushed me."

I finally decide to take a look down at the bag she's talking about. Sure enough, it's my bag that has my keyboard in it.

'[I told you it was heavy.]'

'To her, maybe.' I roll my eyes while the girl isn't looking.

"Wait, you're strong aren't you?" The girl's olive green eyes beam at me with hope. "You can help me bring this to the lost and found area, right?"

"Well…" I pick up the bag and dust it off a little. It doesn't look like she's even attempted to open it, better yet try and break its contents. She must really mean the best. "I would help you, but…"

"But what?!" She furrows her brow and pouts childishly.

"But this bag is exactly the reason I was running back here in the first place. I forgot it in that garden you were talking about because I got distracted by… a guy… who wanted me to go meet some of his friends in the front plaza."

"Oh, it is? Thank goodness!" She sure changes moods quickly. "Then I guess it's mission accomplished, huh?" She smiles at me, obviously glad she didn't have to carry the bag the rest of the way back.

"Yeah, I guess so. I'm Alan, by the way."

"Neith!" She replies cheerfully.

All of a sudden I make the connection. She met with Zaffre and friends, then Zaffre left to eventually find me. Then, as me and Zaffre returned, she walked right past us towards where I was sitting in the garden. She found the bag, dragged it all the way up here, and met me in the middle. Sure enough, this girl has the features Maverick and I described. She was kind of short, black-haired, and had olive-green eyes.

"Oh, well that's ironic! Maverick and I were just talking about how you had passed Zaffre and I as we went up to the plaza. Apparently, Zaffre wasn't even paying attention."

"You know Zaffre?"

"Well, more of acquaintances than anything else. He introduced me to his little circle of friends before I ran over here to get this."

"Ha, well that makes two of us then! I had only just met Zaffre as well. I don't really have any friends at the school yet, and Zaffre and his group seem pretty nice, so I said 'Why not?'" She shrugs at that last remark.

"Yeah, well he's a little too loud for my tastes. I much prefer absolute silence than to be around someone who can cause earthquakes with their laughter."

"Yeah, he's kind of the… loud type." Neith picks that last adjective carefully.

"Loud is an understatement." I reply quickly.

We share a laugh, and then fall into silence.

"So…I guess we should be heading back?" I quickly interject.

"Yeah, plus it's almost lunch time. I don't want to be waiting in line for an hour for _cafeteria food_ of all things." She grimaces playfully, which wins her a small laugh from me.

"Agreed. Let's get moving."

* * *

_Thanks for 600 story views! I'm going to be spending more time really making sure these next few chapters are pinnacle, so I apologize if my upload schedule is a little off!_


	6. New Friends Part 3

_Sorry for the delay! Life-stuff got in the way, and I also decided half-way through writing this that I wanted to rewrite it and try a Narrator perspective (please send me some feedback on that, if you can!). Enjoy!_

* * *

**Perspective: Narrator (no perspective)**

Alan and Neith walked silently most of the way back- Alan not knowing what to talk about, and Neith not wanting to break the silence. They weaved through the many groups of new students until they finally arrived at Zaffre's little circle of friends.

"Hey! So you found your luggage and a girl while you were out, you hound dog!" Zaffre boasts loudly on the two's arrival.

"Hound dog?" Alan asks confused. Same with the thing Zaffre said earlier, he has no idea what a lot of slang and metaphors mean in English.

Clark beckons Alan over to him and whispers something in his ear. Alan stands up full, looks to Neith, who also seemed unaware of what the phrase meant, and then back to Zaffre- Alan ever so slightly blushing.

"No! Nononononono it's not like that! Neith was trying to bring my bag to the lost item thing in the front of the school and… we kind of just ran into each other."

"Might I add that we LITERALLY ran into each other?!" Neith walked up to Alan's side, facing Zaffre. "I was sitting down on his bag around the corner of the building and he came around the corner in full sprint! He's lucky I didn't get hurt."

"I'm pretty sure you fell over all by yourself. I stopped before we collided." Alan mentions.

"But you _made_ me fall over, and that's the point!" Neith puts her hand to the back of her head. "I hit my head on the concrete pretty hard, you know!"

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry- again." Alan looks around the group before continuing. Zaffre, Maverick, and Clark smiling ridiculously big at the entirety of the argument. He turns back to Neith. "What do I owe you? I already apologized twice."

"Uh…" Neith puts her index finger on her chin and looks off into the distance. "I actually didn't think I'd get this far."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Like, I expected you to put up more of a fight." Neith looks at him blankly and shrugs.

Most of the group bursts into laughter, even the otherwise silent Morgan and Misty stifle a giggle. Alan looks amongst them, slightly demoralized and obviously irritated at the sudden increase in noise, and quickly changes the subject. "Well, I got my bag back, and I found Neith, so that's what counts, right? I hit two birds with one stone."

"Yeah, I guess so!" Zaffre says, finally calming down.

* * *

The seven hunters-and-huntresses-to-be spend the next few hours just talking and walking around. Alan had learned a lot about each of these new "friends." However, Zaffre's constant asking of personal questions was getting on his nerves. For the most part, he politely refused to talk about a lot of things. He did, however, talk a little about his family and home, but nothing specific.

Zaffre had obviously gotten bored somewhere during a conversation about Beacon's teachers. He was swaying his head back and forth as the other six conversed, paying only enough attention to where he was going that he was able to avoid tripping over a rock. After a few more steps, he finally snapped. "Guys, let's go do something! Taking about random junk is so boring!"

The group stops in their tracks. Clark, Maverick, and Morgan exchange devious looks, while Alan, Misty, and Neith are busy looking worriedly at the three. Clark finally pipes up. "You guys thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Oooh yeah." Maverick and Morgan say in unison.

Clark walks over to Zaffre and whispers something to him. Zaffre immediately grins like the Cheshire cat and nods. "Totally."

Neith, Alan, and Misty look at them in confusion. Zaffre simply looks to Alan and raises his eyebrows.

"We're going to go coalesce with some other groups and find some guys who will go help us with a tradition of ours. You in?"

Alan looks at Zaffre suspiciously. "What do you mean, tradition?"

"Ohohoho, I can't tell you that unless you agree to help us regardless!"

Alan looks off for a second in pause, then returns to Zaffre's gaze. He makes sure no one else is looking, and then makes direct eye contact with Zaffre. Alan's eyes flash quickly with a shiny gold, and then he looks away. He opens his mouth to speak, but pauses for a second- as if he was trying to comprehend something.

He turns back to Zaffre, who didn't seem to notice him use his semblance, and then looks at the group setting out to leave with an extremely worried face.

"You're not going to…"

Zaffre crosses his arms. "You're getting no hints from me, man. You have no idea."

* * *

**Perspective: Alan Burgundy**

'Why on Remnant would he want to do something like that? He could get expelled on his first day here!'

'[I doubt expulsion would be the school's first course of action, but they would definitely get punished if caught.]'

I look to Neith and Misty, still awfully confused. I wish I could tell them what little I understand of Zaffre's "plan", but that would put me in a position I'm not comfortable in being in.

"Well the answer is no- absolutely not. If you four want to go get expelled on the first day here, then be my guest." I really want to give them a piece of my mind, but I'm going to leave my reaction as vague as that so that Zaffre doesn't suspect anything.

"Well, geez, dude… we aren't going to get _expelled _for it. It'll just be a quick little thing, no one will get hurt and no one will get caught!" Zaffre further tries to convince me.

"Well no thanks. I can find something else to do while you risk your education on some ridiculous prank."

Zaffre looks to the girls, then to the guys, and then back to me. He shrugs. "Whatever, man. It's your life."

He beckons the other 3 guys, and they walk off towards a larger group to find more victims for their prank. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. While I'd much rather they don't do it, it's not like I know them well enough to convince them not to. Better yet, they might be able to get away with whatever they're doing with relative ease. I can't judge them too hard for having a little fun.

Misty is the first to speak up. "So... what now?"

Well I'm certainly not staying here for very long. Obviously they're going to do something they're going to regret. "What time is it?" I ask.

Misty looks around for a clock somewhere, but eventually ends up digging through her pockets for her scroll and finds the time there. "It's… 12:45pm."

What a relief. "Good, we can be a little bit ahead of the lunch line. Lunch is served at 1:00, I think. I'd rather be there early, and out quickly, than late." I look over towards the main building, where we were told the mess hall is.

"Good enough for me. I haven't eaten all day; I'm starved!" Neith cheerfully exclaims.

* * *

**Perspective: Narrator (no perspective)**

Several hours later, Alan finds himself alone again. The Beacon staff finally gave the students permission to enter the ballroom after what happened at dinner, and Alan immediately took this opportunity to find a quiet corner of the marble floored room and set up camp.

The dark brown-haired boy climbed up the wide staircase and laid his suitcase and keyboard bag against the wall behind him as he unrolled the sleeping bag, that Beacon Academy supplied him with, against the adjacent wall. To his right, a wall. Behind him, a wall. To his left, a balcony. He had quite a bit of space up here, but not enough for someone to sit next to or near him. Alan grins at his perfectly placed temporary bed, and then turns to his suitcase to retrieve his scroll.

The scroll that Beacon Academy gave him was made by the same company that made his weapon, Mic, and Logic. He was able to easily maneuver through the different customize settings and made his scroll's visual theme similar to the rest of his weapon. The small piece of machinery now glowed a deep grey, and all windows were maroon with white text. Alan checks the time, about 7:15pm, and then sits on the sleeping bag, toying with all the new features he now had at his disposal.

Meanwhile, Neith and Misty had caught up with the rest of their friends, after being _almost _successful in pulling off their master prank: starting a food fight at dinner. Luckily, some of the staff in the mess hall used magic, so what small damage they did was quickly undone, and they were sent off with a strict warning.

"Hey, you guys! I hope Goodwitch wasn't too awful to you." Neith says worriedly.

"Naaaah! She, of all of them, was the nicest of the guys who dragged us into Ozpin's office." Zaffre proclaimed proudly.

"Ozpin sure is a weird guy, though. I don't really understand him." Maverick adds in.

"Yeah, he was super mad at us at first, then he was like 'don't let it happen again' and that's it!" Clark concludes. "Just a warning!"

Misty gives the group a cheerful grin. "Well I'm glad it turned out alright!"

"Hey, where's Alan? He wasn't still hanging with you?"

Neith looks around in exaggerated thought. "Well, after lunch we roamed around a bit, then Alan said he was going to go see if they will let us in the ballroom. He said they wouldn't until after dinner, then he ran off again. Misty and I haven't seen him since dinner."

"Well he's probably in the ballroom then," Maverick points over his shoulder with his thumb, towards the ballroom. "You _did_ say he wanted to go there earlier today."

"Very true!" Misty says in-a-matter-of-fact tone. "Let's go put down our sleeping bags early so we don't get separated."

"Wait, we're sleeping on the ground?" Neith asks worriedly.

"Just for today! After initiation tomorrow, they said we'll be given rooms."

"With our teams?"

"Uhh… I dunno. I hope not; I hope they give us a little more time to pick our teams." Misty gives the group an exaggerated pout.

"Speaking of teams," Zaffre steps back into the conversation. "Whose team do you guys wanna be on?"

"Well, naturally I want to be on Morgan's team." Misty points to Morgan with an open palm. "As long as we're partners, I don't see any problems with meeting new friends!"

"I do." Morgan says in a hushed voice. "Based on the guys we've talked to today, I'm pretty sure me and Misty are some of the smartest people here… but I would love to have someone like Alan on my team, though."

"What, that weirdo? Why?" Clark chuckles, blind to the glare Neith was giving him.

"I don't really know. He seems like the type of guy who is really good at fighting, but doesn't like talking about it. I didn't see his weapon, though, so I can't be _too_ sure."

"Yeah, come to think of it," Neith interrupts. "I never got to see Alan's weapon either." She gasps. "What if he's got a double-edged sword?"

"Or a mega high-tech rifle!" Zaffre adds.

"Or a Scythe, like Professor Qrow has at Signal!" Misty adds.

"He's probably got a big weapon that he can't just carry around all the time." Maverick gives the group a disinterested gaze. "Or his weapon is dangerous to have around at all times- like something that shoots fire or whatever."

"I can see that, I guess." Neith puts a bent finger to her chin in thought.

"I'm sure hope his weapon is really cool, though!" Misty exclaims. "It'll make up for his lack of personality."

The group laughs again, and Morgan turns to Misty, then to the group. "So… to the ballroom?"

* * *

**Perspective: Iris Natalia Flynn**

I'm half asleep when a pillow bounces off the wall behind me, and lands on my head. I adjust myself to be able to sit up in my sleeping bag, and see a small, blonde-haired girl run over and retrieve the pillow.

"I'm so sorry!" The girl apologizes.

I simply nod sleepily and watch her run off towards a small group of boys. Come to think of it, those boys were the guys who had that food fight at dinner, right? What brats.

I look up at the tufts of hair messily draping my forehead, a blow a few out of the way. It's pretty hard to sleep on the floor like this as it is, and it's even worse knowing that people like them are going to be up until the last possible second causing trouble. I need the sleep pretty bad; didn't get very good sleep on the way here. I figure laying down and letting nature do the work is the easiest way to fall back asleep.

* * *

Sometime later, something else interrupts me. This time it wasn't a pillow to the head, but a low humming, slowly moving its way over my sleeping bag. I grow more and more irritated at the steadily increasing noise until frustration fuels me enough to want to sit up and crush whatever is making the noise.

However, rather than meeting a bug or something, what is making the noise appears to be a… floating ring? There's a little glowing white dot on one the side of it, facing the direction it was flying. It noticed me sit up, though, and 'looked' my way.

"[Oh, goodness, thank you. Someone is actually awake.]" The cold, robotic voice says quietly.

I rub my eyes and look back at the flying object. Whatever it is, it's definitely politer than anyone else I've talked to today. "Wha… can I help you?"

"[Yes, actually.]" The metal ring flies closer, the humming becoming significantly louder in the now dead silent room. "[I can't see to find my hunter. He's awake, I'm sure, but I'm not really sure _where_ to go to return to him.]"

"What do you mean?" This little thing isn't making any sense. It can see me, but it can't find it's human? Maybe I'm just imagining, or I'm in a dream.

"[I'll skip formalities. I'm a robot that is literally a part of my hunter. He is somewhere on the second floor, however I'm not sure how to get there. I have a hard time doing anything in the dark, really. _I really wish they would fixed that.]_"

Well, at least it could pass as a human, if it wasn't for that freaky robotic voice. However, I am nice and comfy sitting right where I am. "Why should _I _be the one who helps you?"

"[Because it's two o'clock in the morning, everyone else is asleep, and you are exactly the kind of person I'm looking for.]"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Should I be taking offense to that?

"[Erm… it's hard to explain briefly, I apologize. But if you can do this for me, I'll make sure my hunter _greatly_ thanks you.]"

Well, that's totally not weird. But if it means I can get rid of this annoying humming chunk of metal quickly, then I'm all game.

I sigh. "I guess."

"[Splendid! Thank you very much. Lead the way.]"

I get completely out of my sleeping bag and stand. The dim moonlight casts shadows of the balconies and supporting pillars across the walls of the ballroom. Everyone appears to be asleep. I comb back some of my hair with my fingers and take a few careful steps forward. The ring thing said that his human was on the second floor, right? So I need to walk out from under the second floor to actually _see _the second floor campers.

Slipping past a few people, paying careful attention not to wake anyone, I notice a dim reddish light in one of the corners of a balcony. I point in its direction. "You think that's them?"

"[Where?]" The machine hovers over my shoulder and up my arm, following my finger. "[That might as well be him. However, I'm afraid flying straight there from here would result in me shattering a chandelier or something, like I said earlier. Where is the nearest staircase?]"

Right next to the light is a staircase, conveniently, so I beckon the machine to follow me past a few other people and quietly up the stairs. The constant humming hopefully will be over after this.

Sure enough, the red light illuminating this corner of the ballroom was coming from a boy's customized scroll display. He's oblivious to me standing just a few feet away from him, it looks like. His eyes are closed, but his head is bobbing to a rhythm. He doesn't have any headphones in, from what I can see, though.

* * *

**Perspective: Alan Burgundy**

No, that wouldn't work. Too many syllables. What else rhymes with 'smile'? 'Awhile'? No, I need one syllable. 'Style'? 'While'..?

"Excuse me?"

The sudden noise makes me jolt a little. I swivel my head to see who was speaking, and I'm met with a tall figure standing just a few feet from me. Logic is floating over her shoulder. How did I not hear her coming? Better yet, how did I not notice Logic go missing?

"Uhm, yes?"

"I believe this is yours?" She points to Logic, who flies over and returns to his spot on my neck. I put my hand over the spot in slight embarrassment.

"I, uh, yeah." I stand up to meet her face-to-face. She's actually quite tall for a girl, maybe 5 foot 9. She has long light-strawberry-blonde hair, messily combed out of her face. As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I immediately see something I never thought I'd ever see. I rub my eyes and check again. Sure enough, this girl has _two_ different eye colors. Her left eye looks like a dark green, and her right eye looks to be a shade of blue. The darkness makes it pretty hard to see for sure.

I advert my gaze to the area below us. "How did he…"

"It said that it got lost downstairs, and it doesn't have good night vision." The girl shrugs. "It woke me up with the noise it was making flying around, and convinced me to come find you with it."

"I… well thank you, thank you very much." I nod slightly in further thanks. "I'm…Alan, by the way. The little ring is called Logic."

"Logic?"

"It's a… what's the word…" I look away for a second. Ugh, of all the times to forget a word, it happens in the presence of a girl. "…it's an acronym. Basically, it's part of my weapon, and has a mind of its own."

"Well, cool. I'm Iris, but people call me by my middle name- Natalia, or Nat for short." She gives me a small, pleasant smile.

"Nice to meet you. Or what little I can see of you, since it's so dark." I nervously add.

Natalia closes her eyes for a second, then meets mine again. "Well, your Logic's humming stopped, and I _really _need some sleep, so I'll just head back down now." She points down to the first floor with her thumb.

"Yeah, I should probably sleep as well." I add, looking down at my sleeping bag, still zipped up from when I got it.

"I, uh… guess I'll see you tomorrow?"

I feel like my heart skips a beat for a second. But why? It's just small talk. Maybe I'm just tired.

"Yeah… well, later today, anyways."

"Yeah. Goodnight."

Just like that, she turns and leaves. I notice now why I didn't hear her coming up the steps, she's going down the stairs on her tiptoes. That makes sense, I guess.

I shut off my scroll and finally sit, as comfortably as I can, in the sleeping bag. I sigh again.

'Damnitt damnitt damnitt.'

'[What, did I do something wrong?]' Logic nags.

'Of all the times you could run off by yourself, you choose night time. I didn't even know you couldn't see in the dark.'

'[That's just it, Alan. I can see crystal clear in the dark- better than any human.]'

'Then why did you need to go find help?!'

'[Because I was keeping my promise to get you frustrated or nervous in front of a girl before Initiation. Although I'm pretty sure what happened this morning counts as that, too.]'

I sigh in annoyance. 'Oh, that makes sense. I'm surprised you remembered.'

'[I'm surprised you forgot.]'

* * *

**Perspective: Iris Natalia Flynn**

Is he looking still? Good, phew. I don't know why I decided it would be a good idea to start a conversation when I'm so tired, but luckily it didn't last long.

I roll my neck and yawn. That guy certainly didn't seem tired, though. He seems pretty collected, if he is.

He's… also kinda cute. I really do hope I get to see him later today.

* * *

_850 views, wow! Thank you so much. Next chapter is already quite close to finished, so expect it by the end of the week. You'll get to see (read?) quite a few characters fighting next time! I'll also be combining all of my parts into one Chapter 3 post, rather than having it be multiple parts. This layout just really bothers me._

_Also, again, if you want to review this, please do! I'd love some feedback on the differences in each character's personalities. Zaffe, Maverick, Morgan, Misty, Neith, Alan, and Iris/Natalia- specifically. I know you haven't seen much of Nat, but there's going to be a lot of her in chapter 3! Stay tuned!_


	7. What About My Eyes?

_I forgot to upload this and now everyone's gonna be mad at me for being late I'm so sorry wuuuu~ ;^;  
P.S.- I added some formatting to Prologue 1 to better differentiate Alan's voice from Mic's imitation voice and Logic's voice so that this chapter makes more sense._

_Edit: I realized a fatal mistake I made in the way I gave both partner groups their relics. I added a few lines of text to fix this problem, and it adds to the plot a bit. It's a win-win! I also changed a little bit of Iris' perspective because I wasn't happy with the way I introduced the song lyrics- so I changed them to a different verse which has more significance to Alan._

* * *

**Perspective: Alan Burgundy**

I leap off of the ring that was slowing my descent and hit the ground running. My feet beat loudly against the wild grass as I dash from opening to opening in the forest. Everything is a timeless green, with repeating patterns in plants and trees. I figure, assuming I am running in the right direction, I should be at the 'forest temple' in no time.

I'm glad our initiation is distance, because running distances is probably the easiest thing for me to do at this point. It has been a little over 48 hours since my last hardcore run, so this feels both refreshing and necessary. The cool wind in my face, and its contrast with the warmth of my muscles. The rhythm of my steps correlating with my heavy breathing. It's a wonderful escape that I can always look forward to.

* * *

If there was anyone near me recently, they made no attempts at letting their presence be known. As far as I'm concerned, either no one is this deep into the forest yet- which I doubt- or they're fighting something, or they already have a partner. Regardless, I press forward in hopes of meeting my partner at the halfway mark, rather than sooner. If they are already at the temple when I get there, then that means their obviously capable enough to hustle.

But still, what about the Grimm in this forest? None have blatantly attacked me yet, but I've definitely seen a few. Most of the ones I've seen have been the smaller Beowolfs, but I remember seeing an Ursa early on. Gladly, none of them are fast enough, or at least not willing enough, to chase me. It's making this kind of boring. Maybe I should slow down a bit.

Just my luck, hiding in the bushes surrounding the clearing I stop in are two Beowolfs. Nothing too hard, I suppose. Grimm are known for either attacking all at once, or one at a time, so hopefully these don't double team me.

Their deep black skin and bright bone-like masks contrast well with the green of the forest. They both approach me from the front, and lean over into pouncing position. I quickly and quietly retrieve my weapon from its compartment in my armor. I have 8 rings, so what can I kill two Beowolfs with that requires 8 or less rings? I settle on a glaive and small shield. The rings making up my weapon come together in the crude shape of each item and glow brightly. Each group of rings emits a maroon beam, filling in the gaps and the precise corners of the shield, and the sharp edge of my polearm. The shield is surprisingly light, but I suppose that's simply because I only used 3 rings for it. I secure it on my left forearm.

I run at the nearest Beowolf. I grab my polearm with both hands and swing down, slashing at the Beowolf's neck. It barely flinches. I twist my hands and swing up, slashing at the opposite side of the Beowolf's neck, hoping that the blunt force would knock it back, at least. I twist my body and bash its head with my shield, then kick it upward, as hard as I can, with my left foot. The Beowolf cocks its head back, and falls over with a defeated howl. Fast movements result in fast results, I suppose.

I realize I am standing with my back to the other Beowolf, so I quickly adjust my stance to a defensive one, preparing for a lunge from the other Beowolf. As I thought, the creature of Grimm is leaping at me, claws out. It was much further into the leap than I expected.

_BOOM!_

The Beowolf is hit in the side by a powerful explosion, and flies to the opposite end of the clearing, hitting a tree before crumbling to the ground. Whoever was able to do _that_ must be pretty strong.

I turn in the direction that the shot came from, and I'm met by two familiar brown eyes.

"Hey, tough stuff! Fancy meeting you here!" Zaffre exclaims loudly.

Oh boy.

* * *

**Perspective: Iris Natalia Flynn**

How have I not found anybody yet?! I'm sure that I landed somewhat near a few people, but why is it that no one is around? I've managed to find more Grimm out here than people!

I take off my katars and crack my knuckles. If I hurry, I might be able to meet someone at the 'forest temple' eventually. My only problem is that I have no idea where that temple might be. I know that I'm walking directly away from the cliff that we were launched off of, but besides that I am clueless. I should look around a bit, and see if anyone is near.

I walk around a large rock into a clearing and see a girl fighting an Ursa easily 3 times her size. She is standing several meters away from it, shooting dust-tipped arrows at its face. She seems solely concentrated on fighting the Ursa, so she doesn't even notice me.

She doesn't seem to be having a lot of trouble, so I might just want to keep going. I mean, what is _she_ going to do to benefit _me _in a fight? My weapon probably outranges hers, granted I don't use dust for ammunition, plus she doesn't look very strong. Maybe she's smart? She might be able to help with schoolwork...

I stifle a chuckle, but it is quickly overlapped by a loud roar coming from the Ursa. I look back at the scene, and see the Ursa turn to charge straight at me. I reequip my katars and roll out of the way, the Ursa crashing into a few trees behind me. I leap onto the Ursa's back and try to make my way to the nape of its neck, where Ursi are particularly sensitive to cuts and slashes. The nape is almost within arm's reach when the Ursa stands back up again, making me lose my balance and fall off of it. I quickly get out of the way, in case it were to fall backwards on top of me, and run by its side, slashing at its right-side legs. The beast roars in pain, and falls limply to the injured side of its body. Now's my chance. I jump onto its back, as I did before, and successfully manage to jab both of my blades into the nape of its neck, killing it immediately. Its still-standing limbs fall under its bodyweight as I jump off of the Ursa's head and land next to the archer girl, who is gawking.

"Woooow." She drawled.

"Easy enough, I suppose. I'm Iris, but call me by my middle name, Nat!" I smile at her.

"I'm Neith..." She looks at me a little uncomfortably long.

"…what?"

"Your eyes are two different colors?"

"I wish you would've said something instead of staring at me. Yeah, I have a thing called heterochromia. My eyes are different colors from birth."

"Heterochromia… meaning 'of different colors'. Neat!" She smiles back at me. I'm honestly surprised she even knew that. I guess she is pretty smart after all.

"Anyways, let's get down to business." I take off my katars again and put my hands on my hips. "Do you have any idea where the 'temple' Professor Ozpin was talking about might be?"

"Well, I know it's in the north, and north is that way…" She points to the direction where I came from.

"No no, that's not north. I came from that direction, and I'm pretty sure _that_ way is north." I point past her towards the direction I was heading."

"Well, there's no use in arguing." Neith immediately grabs an arrow with a red dust tip and fires it into the air above us. The arrow detonates, and the resulting flame and smoke flies in a completely different direction than what I thought was north.

"Well, it looks like neither of us were right." She says informally.

"How are you so sure?"

"The wind in this valley flows from north to south. Which means…" She points behind us with her bow. "…_that_ way is north."

Yeah, she's definitely better off in the wilderness than I am, I'll give her that. We'll probably want to make haste so that we can get to the forest temple as quickly as possible, with the least amount of Grimm encounters.

"Well, lead the way."

* * *

**Perspective: Zaffre Ogoun**

The forest temple that Professor was talking about is pretty small. It's just a little stone ring with podiums lining it. Alan walks past me and grabs one of the little relic things off of a podium.

"|There, we got our relic. Let's go back.|" Alan's little robotic ring mimics his real voice pretty well. He still hasn't told me why he started using it all of a sudden.

"Well, sure, but why don't we wait for some more people? It looks like we're the first people here." Honestly I wanted see if Mav or Clark made it this far yet, but I guess not. I didn't see Morgan or Misty lined up on the cliff with us, though, so hopefully they'll do alright.

"|Why wait? The last thing I want to find while _this_ deep in the forest is a Death Stalker or a group of Boarbatusks while it's just us two.|"

"Dude, you gotta consider that people are nearby, though! There definitely are. Considering this was so easy to find, I'm sure another group is near."

"|Considering I ran, in full sprint, for a mile or so of the distance from the cliff, and you're the only person I've met so far, I seriously doubt that.|"

Geez, no wonder Clark doesn't like him that much- he's stubborn as a mule. That won't stop me, though. "Come on dude, just wait like 5 minutes- 10 tops! Mav and Clark are _bound _to be close by!"

He looks at me in annoyance and sits up against one of the stone pillars of the temple. He sighs. "|Fine, fine…we'll wait for them two. But if they aren't here in 10 minutes, I'm leaving. I'm already sick and tired of being down here… after earlier.|"

He obviously is mentioning the accident we had while fighting some Ursi earlier. My gun's recoil made me smash into his side, and made him hit a tree _really_ hard. He's been grumpy like this since. I ought to thank him for being so patient; hopefully he'll be in a better mood by the time we get back up the cliff.

"Thank you, dude. I promise- like 10 minutes tops. No more." I hate upsetting people, but it seems like everything I've said so far has upset him, and that incident earlier was the icing on the cake. He is practically silent as it is, and now he will barely even look at me. I need to make it up to him somehow, but how? He knows way more about me than I know about him. I can't imagine any sure-fire fix right now, so I guess I'll just have to wait.

* * *

It's been way longer than 10 minutes, and neither Mav nor Clark has shown up. Alan fell asleep some time ago; he probably didn't get a lot of sleep last night. I really ought to wake him up, but I'm not sure how that will work out. I'll just wait until someone else shows up, and then act like it's been 10 minutes.

Actually, it looks like someone's here right now. It's Neith… and some girl who reminds me of Misty. I walk over to the side of the relic they're coming from and get their attention,

"Hey, Neith! It's about time someone else got here!"

Neith sees me and smiles, while the second girl sees me and scowls. What did I ever do to her?

"Hey Zaffre! Where's your partner?" Neith asks with interest.

"Oh, he's around the corner. We've been waiting here awhile for someone to show up, and he uh… fell asleep." I don't really want to mention _why_ we're here, but I figure one of us will tell them eventually.

"Do we know him?" Neith asks again.

"Yeah… it's Alan. He was fighting some Beowolfs when I found him. Oh! Speaking of fighting, I found out what his weapon is."

The mention of Alan's name piques the second girl's interest. I'm guessing she knows him, too?

"Is it a fire sword or something, like we thought?" Neith's eyes are practically beaming.

"Not even close! He uh…" Well, shoot. I didn't really think this through. I suppose I'll just run with it. "He has a bunch of those rings that we saw him using earlier, and they can form into different weapons. The size of the weapon depends on how many rings he uses. I saw him with a poleaxe-looking thing with a shield, and then he had some sort of throwing glaive… they're all the color of his armor. It's pretty cool." I use a lot of hand gestures to try and get my point across, but I'm pretty sure they still don't get it. "I'll make sure he shows you whenever he wakes up. I'm not the best at explaining." I put a hand on the back of my neck. Man, I'm tense. I need to loosen up.

"He's asleep?" The second girl asks.

"Yeah, right over there, against one of the relic pillar things." I point over my shoulder in his general direction. "But what's your name, by the way?"

"Just call me Nat. My first name is Iris, but I prefer my middle name." Nat gives me a cheap smile, making it a little more obvious to me that she hates me for some reason. She's got some really cool-looking eyes, though.

"Cool. I'm Zaffre. Nice to meetcha!" I try not to ask weird questions right off the bat when I meet someone, but I really want to find out why this girl doesn't like me. I might get a chance later.

* * *

**Perspective: Alan Burgundy**

I'm awoken by someone ruffling my hair. I must have slept quite some time, because my muscles are tense, and aching slightly, from sleeping in such an awkward position. I rub my eyes and tilt my head up, expecting to see Zaffre, but instead I'm met with a familiar pair of blue and green eyes. My eyes adjust, and Nat smiles. "So you're not dead, huh?"

I return her a small smile, and stand to stretch. Zaffre and Neith are busily chatting around the corner, so I can only assume Nat and Neith are partners. Maverick and Clark are still nowhere in sight.

'_How long was I asleep?' _"|How long was I asleep?|" Mic flawlessly echoes over my shoulder, causing me to flinch a little. I must have left Mic on when I fell asleep. I might as well let Mic take over for a while. At this point, the last thing I want to be doing is yelling- and Zaffre got me awfully close earlier today.

"You'd have to ask your friend; we just got here."

I roll my eyes. "|Hardly a friend.|"

"You don't like him either?"

"|Wait, why don't _you_ like him?|" I don't recall Zaffre ever mentioning her, how does she know him?

"He started a food fight in the mess hall yesterday, and _I_ was his first victim." Nat pouts. "He may look like an upperclassmen, but he sure acts like a child."

"|Welcome to his entire circle of friends.|" I chuckle. "|We were actually waiting for two of his friends to eventually show up, but you two were the first I've seen, at least.|"

"So why don't you like him?"

I shrug. "|It's not that I don't like him, it's just that he really grinds my gears. Like- of _all _the people I could get paired with, I had to get paired with the guy who can't even take 3 steps without talking. He just talks, and talks, and talks…|" I quickly hush myself as I see Zaffre and Neith turn and walk towards us.

"Speaking of talking, what's up with _that_?" Nat points to Mic, which is still hovering over my shoulder.

"|I use it to talk more often than not. It helps me avoid stuttering, and it keeps people oblivious to my accent.|" As well as a couple of other things, but that's not the point.

"But why are you using it now, all of a sudden?" Zaffre stresses, now at Nat's side, with Neith close behind him.

"|Because I am insuring myself that I won't have to raise my voice at you.|" I state sternly. I thought that bit, at least, would have been fairly obvious.

"Come on, dude, you're still sour over that? I didn't do it on purpose!" Zaffre exclaims.

"|You shot your fancy gun-knife, and the recoil made you slam into my ribcage, and sent my flying head-first into a tree. Why _wouldn't _I still be mad at you? You're lucky I didn't get a concussion.|" I bark, but thanks to the voice-neutral setting on Mic, the only thing angry about what I was saying came from my facial expressions.

"Okay, well first off, it's not a 'gun knife'," He puts air-quotes around 'gun-knife'. "It's a Scimitar that functions as a double-barrel shotgun. Secondly, I couldn't have hit you _that_ hard- you don't have any bruises, you said!"

"|Yes, but it sure knocked the wind out of me. There are an unlimited amount of directions you could have fired in, but you chose the perfect angle that would crash you into me, and send me into a tree trunk.|"

"Okay, look, dude, I'm sorry." Zaffre finally apologized. "I'll say it as many times as I need to- seriously. But we're partners, alright? It would be awful if you stayed mad at me forever." Zaffre leans into a whisper. "Plus, you really aren't acting to impress these ladies, here."

I close my eyes and sigh, my head tilted slightly. What are my options here? Accept his apology, give him an ultimatum, or run off and go find a better partner. I open my eyes and look at Neith and Nat. Both are giving me the 'please be nice' face- especially Neith, who seems to have mastered the craft. I soften my expression, and decide to take a nic_er _approach. I mean, I suppose I'm not really injured. It's just a combination of things Zaffre does that has me so angry. "|Alright.|"

"Aweso-" Zaffre begins.

"|If…|" I interrupt with a finger point. "|If you can promise me that it won't happen again. We're partners now. Don't be so reckless.|"

"Yeah… yeah- totally." Zaffre assures me with a grin. "I'll be the most compassionate teammate in all of Remnant! I'll clean your shoes, do your laundry, make your bed, and even chew your food for you!"

I move to speak, but I'm lost for words. All three of them are laughing at his satirical nonsense, and I'm probably pretty red-faced from embarrassment. I decide, instead of retorting, to cover my eyes with my hand and sigh again.

"Look, dude. I'm not an idiot. I honestly didn't know you were _right there_ behind me when I fired. It won't happen again- even if I didn't promise you just now." Zaffre finally assured me.

I shake my head and shrug. "|Whatever, man.|" I look towards the remaining relics, half black and half gold. "|One of you two grab a relic, and let's get out of here. How long have I been here asleep anyways, Zaffre?|"

"I dunno, 30 minutes?" He shrugs. "In the mood you were in, there was _no way_ I was going to be the one who woke you up, and Mav and Clark still aren't here."

I turn to Nat, remembering that she was the one who woke me up, and she gives me a small smirk and shrug. I look over to the relics and point at the nearest one with an open palm. "|Go ahead.|"

Instead of Nat grabbing one, Neith walks past the both of us and grabs the relic I was pointing to. "It's… a giant bishop chess piece… they're all chess pieces." Neith informs us with a quick look around. Sure enough, they all look like bigger versions of chess pieces.

"|I don't know much about chess. I know that one is the knight,|" I point to the horse-shaped piece. "|But that's it. Which one is this?|" I lean over and pick up the relic I grabbed earlier and show it to Neith.

"That's the black king piece." Neith begins to go down the line of relics, naming each one. "Pawn, Pawn, Rooke, Rooke, Knight, Knight, Bishop, that's where I got this Bishop, Queen, Queen, King, and that's where you got the King, right?"

I nod.

"A lot of my friends at my old school played chess. They taught me a lot." She adds.

"|Well, you'll have to teach me some time then.|" I reply with a small grin.

* * *

**Perspective: Iris Natalia Flynn**

I get a little pang of jealousy at that last comment. It's really kind of silly that I did. I'm sure he was just being polite. Although, it seems a little harder than usual to shake that comment off.

"|We should head out.|" Alan's machine hums quietly over his shoulder as he passes us, heading south.

"Do you even know how to get back?" Zaffre asks before he gets too far.

"Neith and I went straight north when we met up, and we came from that clearing. It's safe to say that he's headed in the right direction." I insisted.

"Well? Let's go!" Zaffre enthusiastically shouts.

As they leave, I take one final look at the temple. Each relic lined up in pairs and color-separated. Only one bishop and one king of the black pieces are missing. The ring looks kind of weird with two random pieces missing. I'm not obsessive compulsive in the slightest, but I get a feeling that Neith and I should grab that king piece instead.

Neith walks past me, and I grab her arm.

"Hey, can I hold the relic?" I ask.

"Um, yeah. Sure." She replies with slight surprise.

She hands me the bishop piece and continues walking to meet up with Zaffre. I look the piece over, then look back to the temple. I quickly run over and swap our black bishop piece for the other black king piece, and turn on my heel to catch up with the group.

* * *

Alan has been several meters ahead of us for most of the way back. He doesn't even look like he knows where he's going, from behind him. Neith and Zaffre are busy talking about Grimm or something, which I don't really care about, so I decide to jog a little ahead to meet up with Alan.

Neith and Zaffre were saying earlier that Alan has a thing about noise, and that he prefers dead silence over anything else. Kind of a weirdly specific preference, but I suppose I can't blame him- considering the words 'quiet' and 'Zaffre' are never used in the same sentence unless it's someone asking Zaffre to be quiet.

Alan has his hands clasped over the back of his neck, and looks pretty relaxed. I walk up to his side, and I notice his eyes are closed. Has he been walking with his eyes closed this entire time?

I accidentally scuff my boot loudly on some dirt, and the sudden noise makes him open his eyes and look to me. He then returns facing forward with his eyes closed. He didn't flinch, or anything, he just acknowledged my existence.

"Sorry…" I mutter.

He gives me an indifferent smirk. "|I didn't hear you walk up, so I'm glad that it's just you making that noise. I had a mini heart attack for a second, since I thought you were well behind me with Neith and Zaffre.|"

"Yeah, but they're talking some nonsense about Grimm, and I really couldn't care less. I wanted to see what you were up to."

He looks over his shoulder at the machine he's using to speak, and takes ahold of it. "|Do you really want to know?|" He asks with the machine in his hands.

"Sure, it's better than whatever they're talking about- I'm sure."

Alan presses a button on the side of the machine, and, instead of his voice, the machine starts emitting multiple different sounds all at once. It sounds like a bunch of static and random noises at first, but Alan puts it back on his shoulder, and puts his hands in his pockets, the machine starts playing a lovely acoustic beat.

After a few seconds, a few more acoustic guitars slowly begin to merge into the music, until three or four are playing at once. He closes his eyes for a second, then reopens them with completely different colored eye- WAIT, HOW DID HE DO THAT?! His eyes went from a blue-green mix to a dark purple, and they've stayed that way for a good few seconds now. Is that his semblance? I really wanna ask, but he looks so involved in the music, I can't find the courage to interrupt him.

He takes a deep breath, looks straight forward, and right as the lyrics of the song start, he begins lip-synching.***

He strides with the song like he doesn't have a care in the world. I even notice a little spring in his step every few beats. He looks like he is legitimately enjoying himself- despite being pretty upset just 10 minutes ago, or so. He lip-syncs every word of the song as if he was actually singing it himself, with exaggerated head nods and everything. His smile is contagious.

"|The same way that my whole world's in your eyes... ooh and this time now...|"

He doesn't seem like the type to perform, so I doubt asking will get me anywhere. He's probably just a music junkie. I wonder if he plays any instruments- if the guitar wasn't obvious enough.

The lyrics end, and he bobs his head a little, with his eyes closed, to the rhythm as is comes to an end. He opens his eyes as the music fades to a stop, and all of a sudden they are back to their normal blue-green.

"How did you do that?"

He reaches up at the machine on his shoulder and presses another button. "|Vague questions aren't getting either of us anywhere.|" He says with a relaxed grin.

"I don't even know where to start- that's the problem. The music, the lip-synching, your eyes-"

"|What about my eyes?|" He interrupts.

"Your eyes, like, changed color while you were lip-synching. Is that some semblance thing, or genetics, or what?"

He cocks his head and unfocuses his eyes for a few seconds. Either he's surprised I noticed, or he's surprised that it happened at all.

"|I'm honestly not sure.|"

"What's that supposed to mean?" I really want to know, but pressing him might not make it any better.

"|I mean, I think I know, but it's kind of weird. I'll explain it later.|"

* * *

**Perspective: Narrator (no perspective)**

The two shared a few seconds in silence before they heard hushed footsteps behind them. Both of them turned their heads to see Neith and Zaffre catching up to them.

"What was with the music, Alan? I thought all that thing did was talk for you!" Zaffre beamed.

"|Well,|" Alan sways his head back in forth, deciding on whether or not to explain. "|Mic can do a couple of things, really. It has a few settings. The first is forced thoughts, which is what it's on now…|" He takes a hold of Mic again and presses the second button on a row of four buttons. The light in the center of the machine goes from a single white line to a thick grey bar, going horizontally across the center of the ring. White text rolls across the grey bar. "This... setting... is for when... I need to be... quiet." Zaffre reads the scrolling text out loud. "And the third…" Alan presses the third button and music begins to play from the ring. He presses the first button again. "|The third one is like my own personal radio station. If I remember how a song goes, I can play it out loud. Logic does most of the memorizing, though, that way nothing is altered. The fourth button is just a power on-or-off button.|"

"So… it basically is…" Neith starts.

"|A microphone and speaker- hence its name, Mic. It stands for Mechanical Introspective Communicator.|" Alan finishes the thought for her.

"Does the smaller ring have a longer name than Logic?" Nat adds.

"|Yeah... Logic-Operating Graphic Information Computer. But I'm sure it probably would have told you that already if I let it fly around by itself- like it was doing at 2 A.M. last night, apparently.|" He looks to Nat and playfully scoffs, which grants him a smile from her.

Zaffre walks a little in front of the group and looks over at Alan. "Yo, Alan, what happened to you? You were super pissy like 10 minutes ago, and now you're telling us more about yourself in these 2 minutes than you've told us in the last 24 hours!" Zaffre exclaims.

He shrugs. "|I'm comfortable… I guess? I haven't really had a chance to just walk and enjoy some music in a few days, so it was nice… while it lasted. But it'll take a lot more than this to get me out of a good mood.|"

"Well that's good. You should be this chill more often!" Zaffre replied.

* * *

The group turns a corner, and is met by several glowing eyes hiding in a nearby bush. Alan, Zaffre, and Nat each take a battle stance, preparing for an onslaught, but Neith simply takes out an ice dust-tipped arrow and fires it into the bush. The bush crackles with ice shards and howls of pain as the now visible pack of Beowolfs fly in all directions. Four of them stay down, but the fifth begins to stand, only to be met by a bladed arrow to the forehead.

Neith walks into the bush and retrieves the arrow from it, and then walks to the assassinated Beowolf and takes the arrow out of its head with a single forceful pull. She turns to the group, each of them still gawking.

"…what?"

* * *

**_***The song and lyrics briefly mentioned in Iris' perspective are part of Travis Garland's "Diamond/Adorn" Mash-Up. The mentioned lyrics start at about 1:17 and end at about 3:00 on Travis Garland's official video. I'd link it, but I'm not sure how that would work out on FanFiction._**

* * *

_Bam! Dropping mixed signals up in here! _

_T__hese four are my final contestants for the main team! I'll tie up loose ends next chapter, and dive into a new idea I've been pondering these past few days. It'll take anonymous effort from as many people as possible. So please stay tuned! As always, reviews are always awesome- guest or user._

_Edit: A lot of spelling mistakes this chapter. I'm correcting them as I reread, but if you spot any, please let me know. D:_


	8. Ciénish Part 1 (Poll)

**Perspective: Alan Burgundy**

I sit down at the wooden desk against the wall at the end of my bed. Zaffre's already made quite a mess of the desk in the few weeks that we've been roommates. I push some empty cans, of a drink I'm not familiar with, out of the way of the center of the desk, and take out my stamps, pencil, and formal letter-writing paper.

'_Dear Mom & Dad,_

_It's been two weeks since Initiation. I'm all moved in with my team- Neith, Zaffre, and Iris… but she likes to go by Natalia. We're Team ANZI- with me as the leader. Things have been going pretty good._

_I'm finally starting to understand how school in this part of the world works. It's not much different from at home, but an important highlight is that there's so many more students per class. There's upwards of 20 in my Mathematics class alone. I try to sit in the top row as often as I can to avoid any unnecessary noise, due to my semblance.'_

My semblance… it's just a big mess, isn't it? While my semblance would technically count as two semblance in one, each thing my semblance does comes with a harsh drawback, and neither part of my semblance help me in combat- pretty much ever. It's extremely common in the people from my region, and we call it the Slyph semblance. Each type is considered a variant, with each variant specializing in a part of the body. I have the Slyph Mind and Slyph Mouth variants.

Slyph Mind is the part of my semblance that allows me to vaguely read people minds. It's quite useful for getting information from people who would probably never say it out loud, or people keeping secrets. I need to be making direct eye contact with the person of interest, and I can only "read" immediate thoughts, not memories and such. My eyes will flash a yellow-ish gold when I do this, which is either really noticeable or barely noticeable depending on the lighting.

The worst part is that Slyph Mind makes me very sensitive to noise. My mother was always telling me about how her sister has Slyph Mind as well, and how she could have easily gone deaf without proper care. I can hear more noises, and I can hear them louder. Everything is loud. Things like mechanical objects, gunshot, and other common loud noises irritate me quite a bit more than normal people, which is why I enjoyed my soundproof room at my parent's house. I don't have anything like that at Beacon. However, it's human and faunus voices that are the worst.

Imagine sitting in a big room by yourself. No people, no machinery or pipes humming in the walls, just the sound of your heartbeat, your breathing, and the ever-so-quiet noise your veins make when fresh blood flows through them. That's what I daydream about. If I had earplugs, I'd use them every waking minute I'm around people- especially Zaffre. Zaffre is the person in my daydreams that walks into my silent room and screams into one ear while banging a drum in the other. This is lesser so with the rest of Zaffre's friends, Natalia, and strangers. It is because of this predisposition that I naturally hate being around people. I continue writing.

'_But something has been bothering me these last few days. Not the same way as how it bothers me that I was put in charge of team ANZI, or like it bothers me that Zaffre is a slob- and puts all of his trash and dirty clothing on the floor. It's not the same way as how it bothers me that my school uniform is just a little too tight around the calves, or that Natalia refuses to wear her uniform correctly, or that Professor Oobleck talks way too fast for his own good.'_

It bothers me because I have no idea why it's there, why it's happening, or how to fix it- like an itch in that one place on your back that you just can't reach. Like a big paint spill on the outside of your twentieth floor hotel window. You can see it clear as day, but there's nothing you can do about it. That's the boat I'm in right now.

_ 'What is bothering me is that Neith's voice doesn't cause problems with my semblance._

_Neith can walk into a silent room and sit next to me without me noticing. Neith can whisper to me, or scream at me, and nothing horrible happens to me. I get no severe headaches from hearing her voice. I get no discomfort from hearing her speak. This is the first time in my entire life where I can actually enjoy someone's presence without having to constantly remind them to not raise their voice. _

_However, it's not like I get to have that pleasure very often- even if it's only been a few weeks since we were teamed up. Neith is a cute girl, I guess. She's resourceful, friendly, smart, and is kind of maternal in the way she treats everyone. She has more patience than anyone I've ever met before. She's the only one of us, between me, her, and Natalia, who can stand being around Zaffre for any longer than necessary. She spends so much time around Zaffre that I rarely get to talk to her alone- if at all. She's a little naïve, though, and a little childish. Granted that Natalia isn't much more mature than Neith, but at least Natalia is street smart.'_

Speaking of Natalia, I still haven't figured out why my Slyph Mouth was activating without me actually using it the other day. Natalia said that my eyes changed to purple while I was relaxing on the way back to the cliff on Initiation day, but I hadn't been speaking at all; I hadn't been speaking for the last hour when it happened!

The second part, or "variant", of my semblance is called Slyph Mouth. It's another useless-in-combat variant, just my luck, but it's kind of nice to have due to my love of music. Slyph Mouth allows me to perfectly mimic any voice, or other human/faunus sound, that I have heard enough of to remember it decently well. I also learn languages really fast. Unlike if I was using Mic, you would be unable to tell I was using it unless you were looking straight at me. Mic can imitate my semblance as well, because it is linked to my brain with all that fancy science-y stuff that came with my weapon. My sister also has Slyph Mouth, which is why my parents invested in all the musical instruments that we have at our house. It's great for singing, great in politics and commercials, and would probably be a good skill to have as a robber or identity thief- come to think of it. My eyes turn a deep purple when I use this variant of my semblance.

The drawback of this variant of my semblance is that, while using it, I randomly lose one of my six senses. If I want to sing a song in someone else's voice- whoops! You're blind until you stop singing. If I want to make fun of someone's accent using my semblance- whoops! You've lost all sense of touch, and you'll be flopped face-first on the ground unless you stop using it, since you can't feel your legs! It's absolutely random, and it makes me miserable sometimes.

Natalia described my Slyph Mouth semblance when I wasn't even using it. Did I maybe lose my sense of smell or taste and not notice it? But why would it have activated without me even properly using it? I probably shouldn't bring this up with my parents. Instead, I'll contact my sister and see if she knows why it happened.

'_Please ask Aunt Dibella if she knows anyone who doesn't affect her semblance, like the way Neith does to me. I'd mail her, but I don't know her address._

_On a final note, could you please send me my 12-string guitar or violin in the mail? Sister said that Beacon mail delivery is top tier, and that she's sure nothing will be broken if you send it long-distance. I could really use another instrument over here, with all of my free time._

_Wishes for the future, Alan.'_

I put my pencil down and reread my letter. I might be giving the wrong vibe by the way I talk about Neith. I mean, sure- at first maybe I liked her, but considering I never get a chance to talk to her, even with the literal closeness that we share by being roommates, everything involving her just seems like a hassle. It's kind of a bummer, I guess. I'm sure I can figure some fix out eventually, or I'll just give up.

The majority of my letter is also about stuff my dad won't be able to relate to. While I'm kind of weary that my dad won't really understand my problem, since his family didn't inherit the Slyph, my mom should be able to make some connections happen- hopefully. I don't really want to bring it up with Neith, or anyone else, so I figure the best way to figure out what's the matter is by asking someone who might have had the same situation in their life.

'Logic, what time is it?'

'[There's a clock right behind you.]'

'Just tell me the time.'

'[One twenty-five in the afternoon.]'

I actually have a lot more time than I expected. Lunch break is 45 minutes, starting at 1:00, then we go back to our studies from 1:50 to the end of the class day. Naturally, I don't eat in the cafeteria with the rest of the students. So I try to get to the cafeteria a little early so I can ask one of the chefs for a pre-made meal, then I leave for our dorm, or for the gardens- which are closer. I learned the hard way on the first day of school that the cafeteria is the worst place to visit during rush hour- ever.

I look to the bowl and plate of food resting on the large bookcase in our room. I still can see little swirls of steam coming from the bowl. What did he call it- miso soup? The chef that makes the pre-made meals is conveniently Ciéngránian as well, so he understands my situation a little bit better than other might. He says that he might try and prepare a meal for me some time this semester that would "taste like home". Honestly, I don't miss any traditional meals that we ate at my parent's house, but I didn't have the heart to bring that up.

'[You should probably eat your lunch before it goes cold.]' Logic says, waking me out of my thought process.

* * *

**Perspective: Neith Ammópetra**

I'm stirring around the little remains of today's soup when Nat nudges me a little on the arm.

"Yes?" I ask inquisitively.

"Do you know what class Alan has after lunch?"

"Umm… no, sorry." I sadly admit. "Alan doesn't really talk to me all that much, so I don't know much about him, really."

"Well, do you know where he might be right now?"

"I can't imagine him going very many new places by himself, since even _I_ don't know the school grounds very well yet. He's probably in our dorm room, or outside."

"Okay, thanks!" Nat immediately trashes the remainder of her food and leaves the cafeteria.

That girl sure seems to have quite a fix on Alan. I don't really understand why she is always trying to talk to him. I hate to be cynical, but I have a feeling that she's trying to really annoy him to the point where he does something he shouldn't. Or maybe she has a crush on him. I don't really know.

Nat doesn't really seem the type to fall for a guy like Alan, though. Alan is really funny and sincere when I get the chance to talk to him, but he practically avoids me and Zaffre at all costs. Nat and Alan aren't exactly two sides of the same coin, either. Alan is the kind of kid who would sit in the back of the class, and make one hilarious remark that the entire class would remember him for- because that's all the class ever heard him say. Natalia is the kind of girl who would skip class to go hang out with her friends. She also said she likes "street dancing" in her free time. I'm not sure what that is, but it doesn't sound very safe.

Alan also has been using his Mic-thing ever since Initiation. Maybe he feels obligated to show us all of the fancy things it can do, so he chooses not to use his voice? I don't think Nat has ever heard his real voice. Maybe that's what she's trying to get him to do- speak to her using his real voice. I'll have to talk to her later about it; I've gone and made myself curious.

* * *

**Perspective: Iris Natalia Flynn**

The dorms are quite a walk from the cafeteria. I'd have much preferred he hid in the gardens than all the way in our dorm room during lunch, because I'm probably going to be late for my next class.

I consider knocking at first, but hey- it's my dorm room, too.

I open the door, and see Alan violently flinch out of the corner of my eye.

"Hey, Alan! Glad to have finally found you."

He turns his head to me with an expression that is somewhere between angry and confused. He looks me up and down, then returns back to whatever he was doing at his and Zaffre's desk.

"|To what do I owe the pleasure of you looking for me?|" His machine echoes in the quiet room.

"Uhh… what?"

He sighs. "|What do you want?|"

"Oh! I, uh, was wanting to know what classes you have this afternoon. Some of my friends are trying to gather up some people to help us start a club, and I was hoping that you could-"

"|No thank you.|" He says coldly.

"Whaaaat? You didn't even let me finish!" I really want him to help, even if he only goes the one time- that'll be more than enough for me.

"|If you intend on skipping class to do… |" He lifts his left hand and rolls his wrist. "|…whatever it is you're thinking about doing, then count me out.|"

"It won't be happening _during_ lessons, silly, we'll be doing it _after _the lessons are over. I just wanna know your schedule so I can find you this afternoon." And so I can find you after class _every_ day, but that's not for him to know yet.

He balances his head on his fist and sighs again. "|I'm really not interested, sorry.|" He shakes his head and continues writing.

"Interested in what? I haven't even told you what we're doing yet!"

You know what? I'm gonna get him to act interested whether he likes it or not.

I walk up behind him and tap him on his left shoulder, then quickly move to his right side and snatch the paper he was writing on while he was distracted. I back up to the other side of the room as quickly as possible.

"|Hey! Give that back.|" He stands and motions me to return it to him.

"Nuh-uh! Not until you hear me out."

He lowers his shoulders, and walks over to sit on his bed, where he sighs much deeper than before. "|Okay, whatever. What is this club you're making about?|"

He's not much of a fighter, is he? I was expecting more of a chase. But no matter. I hide the paper behind my back just in-case he makes a grab for it.

"Okay. So, my friends and I are gonna make a club that's all about music and dancing and stuff. We're gonna use the main courtyard as our meet-up location, and just chill there for however long we decide." I extend my hand to him. "You're a music junkie, right? I'm sure you would love to join us."

His face softens, so I assume he was imagining it and enjoying what he saw, but his expression sours quickly. "|Not really a 'junkie', but yeah, I like a lot of different music. But I don't _do _crowds. How many people do you expect there?|"

"I dunno… ten, maybe fifteen tops?"

"|Well I'm still not interested. Can I have my paper back?|"

"Nuh-uh-uh~! Not until I get to read it." I don't really care what he's writing, but I wanna see him at least squirm a little.

I take the paper out from behind my back and straighten it out. Alan is strangely calm, what's up with that? He's not uncomfortable with me meddling with his stuff? Actually trying to read what's on the paper is when I realize why he is so calm. Nothing on the page, except for a few of our team's names, is in English- at all. It's all in some weird English-looking language that has lots of two letter words and accent marks.

I am caught off-guard by Alan walking up and snatching the paper from my hands.

"|It's in Ciénish, my home-region's language. You act like I would write anything personal in English- especially with Zaffre living here.|" He barks, returning to his desk and putting the paper under one of his textbooks.

"I didn't even know you spoke two languages." I admit. While I knew he was pretty smart, I didn't expect him to be fluent in _two languages._ That's awesome.

"|I speak four.|"

"What?!"

He turns to me and gives me a 'you-should-know-this-already' look. "|I speak four languages. The only languages I don't know are the ones that are long dead. English is the only language I need to know in the Vale region, so don't bother asking.|"

Bingo.

"I don't believe you."

"|What do you mean?|" He furrows his brow.

"You're lying. You don't really speak four languages, do you?"

"|I most definitely do.|" He gives me a reassuring nod.

"Prove it."

He leans his head forward and meets his hands to his temples. He stays like this for a few seconds before finally taking a deep breath, looking to his Mic-machine, then back to me.

"|Well, you know that this is English of course. ▓▓▓ ▓▓ ▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓ ▓▓▓ Ciénish. ▓ ▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓ ▓▓▓▓ ▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓. Finally, ▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓ ▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓.|"

I literally followed none of that, but he sure as hell proved his point. "Okay, okay, you win. I believe you. Next you're going to tell me that you're a famous musician, or actor, or that you're the Ci-whatever-you-called-it region's champion fighter."

"|Don't forget world-renowned chef and military genius.|" His machine murmurs as he shrugs with a gentle smile.

I got him to smile, at least. But he was the one who frustrated me, not the other way around. I'll try one last time.

"Do you mind me asking what's on your paper?"

He raises an eyebrow and looks me up and down quickly- again. He looks over his shoulder to where he put his paper, and then returns to facing me. "|It's a letter to my family. It explains a, uh… 'problem' that happened, that my mother's sister can help me solve.|"

"What kind of problem?"

"|That's not your business.|"

"Oh come on, please?"

"|Even if I were to tell you, it wouldn't make any sense. It's a personal issue.|"

"A personal issue like why you don't like being in big groups of people?" I tease.

"|No, but what causes _that_ is what's also causing _this_ problem. But that's none of your concern.|"

I look up at him and shake my head lightly. "Alright, I'll take your word for it. But don't expect me to be so lenient, anymore, about you being super mysterious all the time." I give him a confident wink and begin to leave, but he starts to speak right as I open the door.

"|I..uh…|" He puts a hand on his neck. "|I have Faunus History as my last class in the afternoons. It's down the hall from Professor Oobleck.|"

"Awesome! See you then."

I shut the door quietly behind me, then silently cheer. Did I just do what I thought I did- on accident? Hell yeah!

My self-chant was interrupted by the door opening behind me, making me straighten up nervously and turn around.

"|That doesn't mean I'll be attending your club-thing. I was simply answering your first question. There's no need to celebrate.|" With that, he recloses the door.

How did he know I was celebrating?

* * *

_Author's Note: So here's the big reveal. I have some drafts of three timelines: A timeline where Alan falls in love with Nat, a timeline where Neith returns Alan's affections, and a timeline where Alan does neither- which is much less fun to write. _

_My plan is to let you, the readers, decide on what happens every few chapters! I'll be setting up polls at the end of chapters marked with the (Poll) tag, where you can vote for what action you want to take place in the second part of the chapter. Each poll choice will have a unique outcome, and each poll choice will be marked with a plus-or-minus for each character involved, if you want the story to lean in the direction of Neith's affections, Nat's affections, and/or Zaffre's friendship. It will make more sense after the first few polls, I think._

_All votes are anonymous- not even I know who votes for what! You can view the poll results before and after you vote, but they will only be numbers. Sadly, you need an account for Fanfiction polls, so I apologize to anyone reading who does not have an account already._

_Check the top of my profile page for the Poll link._

_Once again, reviews are awesome, and criticism is even better. Please don't be shy if you want to express your opinion. Thanks, and take care!_


	9. Ciénish Part 2

_Poll Winner: 'Oblige and go with her.' Stomping the competition 6-0-0! Thanks for participating, and here's Part 2!_

* * *

**Perspective: Narrator (no perspective)**

Natalia and Maverick had been waiting outside Alan's final classroom for a good few minutes before Alan finally slipped out. All the other students had left well before he did, so the noise of the halls was slowly dissipating by the time he exited the room and turned to the pair.

"Hey, Alan!" Nat gave Alan a big grin.

"Hey, guy, long time no see!" Maverick followed up. "How's life been treating you?"

Before answering, Alan turns to Nat. "|You know him?|"

"Whoa, what's with the robot voice?" Maverick asks bewildered.

"That's just kinda his thing," Nat answered for him. "He doesn't bother answering a lot of questions, really."

"|Like why I'm letting you talk for me?|" Alan retorts.

"Hey, you weren't saying anything." Nat quickly replies with a shrug.

"|I was going to… tch, whatever. How, actually, do you know each other?|"

"Zaffre introduced us. His friends are _much_ more manageable than he is."

"Hey, Zaffre's a pretty cool guy once you get to know him." Maverick finally adds.

The two team members looked at Maverick with unimpressed eyes before finally commenting in unison.

"No, not really."

"|No, not really.|"

The two both look at each other, realizing their identical response, and made completely opposite expressions.

"Jinx!" Nat quickly exclaimed with a smile.

Alan disguised his wince by running a hand through his short, well-kept hair and sighing. "|How did I know you'd say that?|"

After a few seconds of silence, Maverick speaks up. "So now that we found Alan, where is this club meeting at?"  
"It's in front of the school. Here, let's go." Nat beckons the two to follow her down the hallway towards the front courtyard.

Alan stood still as the two began to walk. He knew he never promised her that he'd attend, so why should he bother following her? She didn't exactly give him a choice in the matter. If he never followed, maybe they'd only notice when it was too late?

Nat looks around her, then turns around to face Alan. "Well? You coming?" She asks playfully.

Alan blinks a few times, waking himself out of his forethought, and impulsively begins to catch up to the two.

* * *

**Perspective: Alan Burgundy**

It took me about a half hour, but I think I finally understand the gist of what Nat finds fun. She was right about how many people are here, with no more than 10 people here at any time. She shares a similar pool of friends to Zaffre, but they're… well it's hard to explain. It's like they're intentionally rude and harsh to each other for the sake of jokes. I don't think I've ever seen Nat run her mouth so much in such a short period of time. But, nonetheless, she's happy- and everyone deserves a little happiness in their lives.

Speaking of, people who looked _much _more interested than I am have left of _disinterest_ already. However, I feel much more obligated to stay since I'm Nat's guest… and since I can't really think of anything better to do. I guess I could go send that letter I made during lunch, or get around to drafting some melodies for the pile of lyric sheets under my bed. But I suppose it's not too bad being here.

Despite the constant banter and music that's always a little too loud, I am able to enjoy myself a little. The music culture here is a lot different from the music culture that I grew up with. Lots of electronic rhythms and heavy bass, compared to the string and wind instrumentals I grew up mainly hearing and performing. It's not necessarily a culture shock, or at least not as big of one as I assumed it would be, since everything about the music they're playing here follows the same basic elements of music. The beat and meters of each song are familiar, and their dynamics, melodies, harmonies, pitch, etc. are also pretty much the same as anything I'd hear back home. The only difference being what it specifically sounds like and the lyrics.

Their dancing is another thing. When Nat talked about them dancing, I thought she meant actual dancing- like the formal stuff you would learn before a major event. Oh no, this is something much different. They rely heavily on the bass and lyrics rather than the melody, and every movement has to correlate with the emotion of the song or to the syllables of the lyrics. With the exception of a few people, who Nat called "break dancers" and "free stylers", everyone did just that. Even Nat performed a little bit, but she says she's not very good.

Similar to how I fight, though, all I would need is a predictable rhythm and I'm sure I could "free style" just fine. I definitely won't, though. While everyone else seems to want to be a part of the show, I am enjoying it simply as a spectator. I would much rather not be the center of attention than embarrass myself trying to be.

* * *

Everyone seems to be pretty worn out now. It's been, what, an hour?

'What's the time, Logic?'

'[Five Fifteen PM.]'

Yeah, an hour. It really doesn't seem like it's been an hour. Then again, time feels like it either goes too fast or too slow when you're constantly checking your watch. I suppose I should go find Nat.

I almost didn't recognize her. She has her hair up in a messy bun, and she changed out of her uniform into some sweats and a t-shirt. Nat has had that goofy smile on her face for a while now. She's also pretty giggly- maybe she's tired? My sister gets giggly like that when she's worn out. I should go check.

Nat is standing quietly in a group of people when I tap her on the shoulder.

"Hey, Alan! Where've you been?" She turns to be with the same smile I saw her wearing earlier.

I shrug. "|Just around. I think I finally understand why you wanted me to join you here.|"

"Well you haven't been doing a very good job of _joining_, have you? You haven't even broken a sweat!" She says with a giggle.

"|I don't dance.|"

"Sure you do! Anyone can dance with some practice." She turns back to her friends. "Isn't that right?" They all nod, probably too winded to speak. It's then that I realize how heavily Nat is breathing.

* * *

**Perspective: Iris Natalia Flynn**

Say it. Just say it. Repeat to me what you told Neith during initiation. I wanna hear it. Come on, come on, come oooonnnnn.

"|I don't really think so. I understand how to do it, I think, but I don't think dancing will ever be something I'm good at.|"

"I'm not all that good at freestyling, but I could totally teach you some choreography if you want… and all the stretches that help out a lot, and uh…" Dammit, why can't I think of anything else? I think the heat's getting to me.

"|Well, definitely not right now. You look exhausted.|"

Well he agrees, at least.

"Yeah, I think the heat is getting to me. Where did I put my uniform?" I look around for a bit, honestly not remembering where I left them.

Maverick reaches behind him and grabs my drawstring backpack, then hands it to me.

I thank him and turn back to Alan. "You have all of your stuff, right?"

"|I never put it down, so yeah.|"

Alan winces slightly and places a hand on the back of his neck. Maybe Logic shocked him or something? I would ask, but I doubt he'd give me a straight answer.

"Good. Let's head back."

* * *

**Perspective: Alan Burgundy**

Nat has been especially quiet for the past few minutes. Maybe she can't find anything to talk about… not like I could be of very much help either. She is humming to a song I'm not familiar with and she's doing little things that make me think that she's just deep in thought- like changing facial expressions or tilting her head every now and then.

I still find her eyes fascinating, though. Her one green eye and one blue eye really make her stand out. I wonder if they see colors differently from each other. Maybe her colors aren't the same as my colors. Or maybe they function normally like all other eyes. But still, they're really interesting… and cu-

"Alan?"

I wake up out of my trance to find Nat staring right back at me, as I assume I probably was for a good portion of the last few minutes.

"|Sorry, uh, what?|"

She giggles. "Getting lost?"

"|Lost?|"

"You know, getting lost in someone's eyes." She giggles again.

I immediately recognize the subtext of the statement and move to react. "|No, I just… I just haven't ever had an opportunity to actually get a good look at your… what did you call it- hetero…?|"

"Heterochromia iridium."

"|Yeah.|"

She puts her arms behind her head and sighs. "Honestly, I don't like people looking at them."

An interesting statement, and certainly unexpected. "|Why's that?|"

"Well, it becomes a _label_, you know? Like… I'm never referred to as Nat, or whatever, just 'that girl with the cool eyes' or something like that. It's weird and it sucks. I would totally swap eyes with someone if I could."

"|Colored contacts are available here, aren't they?|"

"Well yeah, but it's not the same. They're still there, and still different."

"|Your eyes function like any normal pair of eyes, so why fret over a detail?|" That's kind of hypocritical, since I am a little finicky when it comes to details, but the advice stands.

"Yes! They're normal eyes like Neith's, or Zaffre's, or… yours… but mine are just two different colors, and apparently that detail makes a _big _difference!"

Well my eyes aren't exactly normal either, but I can tell by the way she mentioned me that she already might have an idea of what I'm about- outside of what very little I've told anyone here about my semblance.

We're just a few seconds from our dorm room, so we walk in silence until I'm able to close the door behind us. Nat immediately jumps, face first, onto her bed and exhales deeply.

"That was a lot of fun." She says, muffled by her pillow. "I'm glad you tagged along."

"|Don't mention it. It was… _cool _to get to see what kind of music Vale students are into, plus the dancing was fun to watch.|" I choose my words carefully, hoping to prevent any further conversation.

She simply does not respond, so I go ahead and scan the room for anything odd. All of our stuff looks unmoved from the way it was at lunch today, so I assume Zaffre and Neith haven't returned, from wherever they are, yet. From the doorway, I can see the corner of my keyboard case under my bed. I've not had a really good chance to use it recently, have I? What's the point of bringing it if I don't even bother using it? I should figure out a time that I can play it without distraction.

I walk back over to my desk, and check to make sure my letter is still there. Of course, it is still where I left it. I go ahead and sit down to start on some homework quickly before dinner call. Professor Ali's Faunus History class is sure getting good, however the homework is unbearable sometimes. Large-scale evaluation of important moments in the Faunus Rights Movement from week one. If it wasn't for the homework, I could easily say that his class is the most enjoyable of all of my other classes.

Taking a step back after finishing a paragraph, I realize Nat has been awfully silent since we got back. I close my eyes and concentrate on the specific sounds. I can hear footsteps and very light chatter in the rooms around us, as well as the chirps of evening birds outside. But only listening _through_ these things am I able to hear the ever-so-quiet sound of Nat's light breaths against her covers. She must have fallen asleep pretty soon after we returned, and I'm almost surprised I didn't notice. I decide it is definitely of my best interest to let her sleep until the dinner call instead of disrupting her. She must be pretty wore out to fall asleep so quickly. I don't think I've ever seen her go from fully awake to dead asleep in such a short period of time.

I suppose there's always a first for everything.

* * *

_AN: I honestly don't have a good excuse for not posting for almost a month. I attended RTX in early July, spent 2 weeks hanging around with an amazing group of new friends, and could never find the time nor the motivation to write. It's not like I didn't want to, it's just a matter of finding the perfect mix of motivation and creativity that was giving me problems. I'll try to get back on a once-a-week schedule or so, so stick around!_

_Again, as always, please feel free to review/critique my work! My personal tumblr blog is where I hang out a lot, and where I am now posting my character's Character Bios. If you want to message me asking an important question, or point out a flaw etc. in my work, absolutely don't be intimidated. Thanks, and take care!_


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